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Full text of "Thoughtful hours"

THOUGHTFUL HOURS 



BY H.L.L 



FROM THE LIBRARY OF 
REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D. 

BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO 

THE LIBRARY OF 

PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 



1> 






2 



THOUGHTFUL HOURS ■ 



fe? 









flv 



H. L. L., 

Author [in part of '" Hymns from the Land oj Luther , 

" The Story of Four Centuries ;'' ''Missionary 

Evenings at Honie,^ 6-Y. 




LONDON: 

NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW; 
EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK. 

1867. 




\3J*(flOST of the following Poems have appeared 
1/1 9 * n vai "i° us Periodicals, and some of them 

have been printed together under the title 

of "Thoughts for Thoughtful Hours." The favour- 
able reception given to these by the public, has led 
to the whole being collected in the present volume. 

Edinburgh, December 1862. 



^xthtz to ®^rirb ®biiion. 

The present edition of "Thoughtful Hours" will be 
found considerably enlarged, by the addition of 
poems written since the date of the last volume. 

HURGH, 1867. 




V 


New Year Greetings, . . 






9 


" O Lord, thou Knowest !" 








12 


Anticipations, 








15 


A Real Incident, 








l8 


It is well, 








23 


" How long?" 








26 


Darkness and Light 








28 


A Parting Scene, 








31 


"At Evening time there shall be Light," 






35 


Prayer out of the Depths, 






38 


All things New, 






42 


Ebenezer, 






45 


Labour for Christ, 






48 


Rest, 






5i 


The Desired Haven, 






53 


The Call Obeyed, 






56 


" Songs in the Night," 






59 


Wells of Marah, 






63 


Memories, 






6 7 



VI 



Contents. 



" Let there be Light," . . 

Awakenings, ... 

Streams by the Way, . . 

Looking unto Jesus, 

" Good Tidings of Great Joy, 1 

"There is Rest at Home," 

The Hill Difficulty, . . 

The Delectable Mountains. 

Living Waters, 

Our Widowed Queen, . . 

On Leaving our old Church. 

"lam Thine, Save me," 

Lullaby, 

Autumn Voices, 

"Thy Will be Done," .. 

Passing Away, 

Sleep, 

Mountains, 

The Flight Homeward, 

" Repos Ailleurs," 

On a Dark Winter Day. 

Rachel's Well, 

A Pilgrim Song, 

An Evening Talk, 

Winter Sunshine, 



Contents. vii 




Page 


Beacon Lights, 


148 


" By the brook Cherith," 


151 


Not Forsaken, 


155 


Father Forschegrund, 


157 


Conflict and Victory, 


.. ■ .. .. 163 


Arise ! Depart ! 


165 


God keep my Child ! . . 


168 


Moriah, 


171 


" Shew me a Token for Good," 


178 


Autumn, 


181 


The last Snow on Ben More, 


i«3 


Tabor, 


187 


Sabbath Evening Musings, 


191 


Strength and Peace, 


195 


The last Sunset, 


198 


*^To&£ 


If* 



THOUGHTFUL HOURS. 



NEW YEAR GREETINGS. 



^giEJOICE, my fellow - pilgrim ! for another 
|\8 stage is o'er 

U Of the weary homeward journey, to be 
travelled through no more : 
No more these clouds and. shadows shall darken all 

our sky ; 
No more these snares and stumbling-blocks across 
our path shall lie. 



Rejoice, my fellow-soldier! for another long campaign 
Is ended, and its dangers have not been met in vain j 



IO 


New Year Greeti?igs. 


Some 


enemies are driven back 
thrown ; 


some ramparts over- 


Some 


earnests given that victory at length shall be 




our own ! 




Rejoice, my fellow - servant ! 


for another year is 




past; 




The heat and burden of the day will not for ever 




last; 




And 


yet the work is pleasant 
Master's smile, 


now, and sweet the 


And well may we be diligent through all our " little 




while." 




Rejoice, my Christian brother! 


for the race is nearer 




run, 




And 


home is drawing nearer 
sun; 


with each revolving 


And if some ties are breaking 


here, of earthly hope 




and love, 




More 


sweet are the attractions of the better land 




above. 





New Year Greetings. 1 1 

The light that shone through all the past will still our 

steps attend, 
The Guide who led us hitherto will lead us to the 

end; 
The distant view is brightening; — with fewer clouds 

between, 
The golden streets are gleaming now, the pearly gates 

are seen. 

Oh, for the joyous greetings there! to meet and part 

no more ! 
For ever with the Lord and all his loved ones gone 

before ! 
New mercies from our Father's hand with each new 

year may come, 
But that will be the best of all — a blissful welcome 

home. 



O LonL thou knmvestr 



Cfe^J 




& 



"O LORD, THOU KNOWEST!'' 

HOU knowest, Lord, the weariness and sorrow 
Of the sad heart that comes to thee for rest : 
Cares of to-day, and burdens for to-morrow, 
Blessings implored, and sins to be confessed, 
I come before thee at thy gracious word, 
And lay them at thy feet, — thou knowest, Lord. 




Thou knowest all the past, — how long and blindly 

On the dark mountains the lost wanderer strayed, — 
Mow the good Shepherd followed, and how kindly 

He bore it home, upon his shoulders laid, 
And healed the bleeding wounds, and soothed the 

pain, 
And brought back life, and hope, and strength 
again. 



" O Lord) thou know est!" 13 

Thou knowest all the present, — each temptation, 
Each toilsome duty, each foreboding fear; 

All to myself assigned of tribulation, 

Or to beloved ones, than self more dear ! 

All pensive memories, as I journey on, 

Longings for vanished smiles, and voices gone ! 

Thou knowest all the future, — gleams of gladness, 
By stormy clouds too quickly overcast, — 

Hours of sweet fellowship, and parting sadness, 
And the dark river to be crossed at last. — 

Oh, what could confidence and hope afford 

To tread that path, but this, — thou knowest, Lord! 

Thou knowest, not alone as God, all-knowing, — 
As man, our mortal weakness thou hast proved ; 

On earth, with purest sympathies o'erflowing, 

Oh, Saviour ! thou hast wept, and thou hast 
loved ! 

And love and sorrow still to thee may come, 

And find a hiding-place, a rest, a home. 



14 " O Lord) thou knowest!" 

Therefore I come, thy gentle call obeying, 
And lay my sins and sorrows at thy feet, 

On everlasting strength my weakness staying, 
Clothed in thy robe of righteousness complete : 

Then rising and refreshed, I leave thy throne, 

And follow on to know as I am known! 




L— 



Anticipations. 



15 




ANTICIPATIONS. 

JirPjlND is the time approaching, 
f$&\M By prophets long foretold, 
■"""^ l When all shall dwell together, 
One Shepherd, and one fold? 



Shall every idol perish, 

" To moles and bats " be thrown ? 
And every prayer be offered 

To God in Christ alone? 



Shall Jew and Gentile meeting 
From many a distant shore, 

Around one altar kneeling, 
One common Lord adore ] 



1 6 Anticipations. 



Shall all that now divides us 
Remove, and pass away, 

Like shadows of the morning 
Before the blaze of dayl 



Shall all that now unites us 
More sweet and lasting prove, 

A closer bond of union, 
In a blest land of love i . 



Shall war be learned no longer? 

Shall strife and tumult cease? 
All earth his blessed kingdom, 

The Lord and Prince of Peace ! 



O long-expected dawning, 
Come, with thy cheering ray ! 

When shall the morning brighten, 
The shadows flee away? 



Anticipations. 



17 



O sweet anticipation ! 

It cheers the watchers on, 
To pray, and hope, and labour, 

Till the dark night be gone. 




i8 



A Real Incident 




A REAL INCIDENT. 

The affecting incident which gave rise to these verses occurred 
as related, in 1855, in the north of Scotland. 

jWO brothers left their cottage home 
On a bright April morn ; 
The lark was singing in the sky, 
The linnet on the thorn; 
Their mother watched them as they sped, 

So gaily up the hill, 
No thought of fear was in her heart, 
No shade of coming ill. 




But evening came — and they came not, — 

Then a long stormy night 
Of agonizing fears wore on ; 

And, with the morning light, 



A Real Incident. 1 9 



An eager, sympathizing band, 

Took in a boat their way, 
Round the dark rocks which girdled in 

A small sequestered bay. 

The dark red precipices rose 

Sheer from the deep below, 
With caverns hollowed by the waves 

Of ages long ago. 
'Twas a wild spot, — a giddy height 

To look at from beneath; 
And from above, one thoughtless step 

Were sure and fearful death. 

A narrow space of stones and sand 

The low tides had left bare, — 
There was a brief and anxious search,— 

They found the lost ones there ! 
Clasped in each other's arms they lay, 

All lifeless, pale, and cold, — 
Oh, what a tale of agony 

Did the first glance unfold ! 



2o A Real Incident. 



With one the mortal strife had passed, 

All aid for him was vain ; 
But one still breathed, — he lived to see 

His mother's face again. 
And ere his spirit passed away, 

They asked him, " Was it not 
An awful night, of pain and fear, 

You spent on that lone spot, 

With the wild precipice above, 
• And death so close beside?" 
But with a placid look and smile, 

The dying boy replied, — 
" Our gra?idmothc7- was with us there; 

She stayed the whole night long; 
And through the noise of winds and waves 

I always heard her song ; 

" The old low song she used to sing 

So often, long ago, 
When we were young, — before she died. 

And went to heaven, you know. 



A Real Incident. 



And when I knew that she was near, 

I could not feel afraid." — 
'Twas a strange answer! — who shall tell 

The meaning it conveyed I 

Was it some idle phantasy 

Of the boy's fevered brain, 
That cheered him through those dreary hours 

Of mortal fear and pain, — 
Some passing sounds by fancy borne 

On the cold midnight air? 
Or did the kindred spirit come, 

And keep love's vigil there? 

Answer us, blessed souls in rest, 

From your bright homes on high ! 
Tell us, if still on this poor earth 

Ye look with pitying eye, — 
If the departed still may come, 

In hours of want and woe, 
As "ministering spirits" sent 

To those they loved below ] 



A Real Incident 



Vain questions of the weary soul ! 

We know the Voice that said, 
" Let not your hearts, who trust in Me, 

Be troubled or afraid ; 
For I am with you evermore 

According to my word." — 
Let this suffice for faith and hope ; 

So be it, gracious Lord ! 



// is well. 



23 




IT IS WELL. 



; He hath done all things well." — Mark vii. 37. 




[0 they said, who saw the wonders 
Of Messiah's power and love ; 
So they sing, who see his glory 
In the Father's house above; 
Ever reading, in each record 

Of the strangely varied past, 
" All was well which God appointed, 
All has wrought for good at last." 



And on earth we hear the echoes 
Of that chorus in the sky ; 

Through the day of toil or weeping, 
Faith can raise a glad reply. 



7/ is well. 

It is well, O saints departed, 
Well with you, for ever blest ; 

Well with us, who journey forward 
To your glory and your rest ! 

Times are changing, days are flying, 

Years are quickly past and gone, 
While the wildly mingled murmur 

Of life's busy hum goes on; 
Sounds of tumult, sounds of triumph, 

Marriage chimes and passing-bell, — 
Yet through all one key-note sounding, 

Angels' watchword, — " It is well." 

We may hear it, through the rushing 

Of the midnight tempest's wave, — 
We may hear it, through the weeping 

Round the newly covered grave; 
In the dreary house of mourning, 

In the darkened room of pain, 
If we listen meekly, rightly, 

We may catch that soothing strain. 



// is well. 25 
J 

For thine arm thou hast not shortened, 

Neither turned away thine ear, . 
O Saviour, ever ready 

The afflicted's prayer to hear ! 
Show us light, still surely resting 

Over all thy darkest ways \ 
Give us faith, still surely trusting 

Through the sad and evil days. 

And thus, while years are fleeting, 

Though our joys are with them gone, 
In thy changeless love rejoicing 

We shall journey calmly on; 
Till at last, all sorrow over, 

Each our tale of grace shall tell, 
In the heavenly chorus joining, — 

"Lord, thou hast done all things well:" 



26 



How Ion* r 





"HOW LONG?" 

How long, Lord? wilt thou hide thyself for ever? Return, 
O Lord, how long? — Ps. lxxxix. 46; xc. 13. 

OW long, O Lord, in weariness and sorrow, 
Must thy poor people tread the pilgrim 
road, 

Mourning to-day, and fearing for to-morrow, — 
Finding no place of rest, no sure abode 9 — 

Sighing o'er faded flowers and cisterns broken ; 

Gazing on setting suns, that rise no more ; 
List'ning to sad farewells, and last words spoken 

By loved ones leaving us on Jordan's shore ! 

How long, through snares of error and temptation, 
Shall noblest spirits stumble on their way ? 

How long, through darkening storms of tribulation, 
Must we press forward to eternal day I 



" How long ?" 27 



How long shall passing faults and trifles sever 
Hearts that have known affection's holy tie] 

When shall the slanderer's tale be hushed for ever, 
And brethren see in all things eye to eye] 

How long shall last the night of toil and sadness, 
The midnight hour of gloomy doubts and fears ? 

When shall it dawn, that promised morn of gladness, 
When thine own hand shall wipe away our tears] 

How long, O Lord] our hearts are sad and weary, 
Our voices join the whole creation's groan; — ■ 

With eager gaze we watch for thine appearing,— 
When wilt thou come again, and claim thine own? 

Return ! return ! come in thy power and glory, 
With all thy risen saints and angel throng; 

Bring to a close time's strange, mysterious story, — 
How long dost thou delay, — O Lord, how long? 



28 



Darkness a?ui Light. 




DARKNESS AND LIGHT. 



ZECH. xiy. 6, 7. 




DO not doubt my safety, — that Thy hand 
Will still uphold, and guard me to the 
last; 
And that my feet on Canaan's hills shall stand, 

When the long wilderness is overpast ; 
But often faith is weak, and hope is low, — 
Forward, indeed, but faint and wearily I go. 



I do not doubt Thy love, my Lord, my God ! 

The love which suffered and which died for me ; 
The love which sought me on the downward road, 

Unclasped the fetters, set the captive free ; 
But mine seems now so languid, dull, and cold, — 
O for the blissful hours which I have known of old ! 



Darkness and Light. 29 

s 

I do not doubt thy wise and holy will 

Is ever guiding, ruling for the best ; 
I know my chast'ning Father loves me still, 

And that the end is everlasting rest; — 
But when the path through clouds and tombs leads on, 
Oh, it is hard to say, Thy will, not mine, be done ! 

I do not doubt, unworthy though I be, 
Thy worthiness, my Saviour, is my own ; 

One of thy many mansions is for me, 

In the good land where sorrow is unknown ; — 

But often clouds obscure the distant scene, 

And from the flood I shrink, which darkly rolls 
between. 

Ah! whence this dullness? why, O faithless heart, 

Thus sadly linger on the pilgrim way? 
Why not with girded robes arise, depart, 

And speed thy progress to the land of day? 
Nor longer mourn the present or the past, 
But press towards the prize, which shall be thine at 
last. 



3o 



Darkness a?id Li«ht. 



Lord, at the evening time let there be light! 

Unveil thy presence, bid all darkness fly; 
Surely, ere now, far spent must be the night, 

The morning comes, the journey's end is nigh. 
Renew my strength, the shortened race to run, 
Till glory crown the work which grace has here 
begun ! 




A Parting Scene. 



3 1 




A PARTING SCENE. 




|HE evening shadows darkened o'er a long 
calm summer day, 
When we gathered in the chamber where a 
dying brother lay; 
A brave yet gentle spirit, whose earthly course was run, 
Whose life of love and labour closed with that bright 
setting sun. 



Not many words were spoken, not many sighs were 

heard, 
As through the quiet twilight-hour we watched and 

ministered, 
And felt as only they can feel, who count such 

moments o'er, 
While gazing on the form beloved they soon must see 

no more! - ■ 



32 A Parting Scene. 



And one, of all the dearest, was nearest to his side, 
In silent anguish bending under griefs o'erflowing 

tide; 
So long, in sorrow and in joy, had these two hearts 

been one, 
It seemed as though she could not stay, if he indeed 

were gone. 

But earthly joys and sorrows for him were ended 

now, — 
The calmness of a better land was resting on his 

brow; 
And when to that sad mourner he softly turned and 

spoke, 
It was as though a spirit-voice the solemn stillness 

broke : — 

" Now my last prayer is answered, my last desire is 

given- 
Each hope of earth is yielded up, each wish transferred 

to heaven ; 



A Parting Scene. 33 



From nature's latest weakness my Saviour sets me 

free, — 
He gives me strength to separate, Elizabeth, from 

thceT 

And strangely mournful earnestness was in his look 
and tone, 

As slowly from her trembling hand he disengaged his 
own; — 

While on our sinking hearts a cloud of deeper dark- 
ness fell, 

A shadow from the sepulchre came with that last 
farewell. 

But the pale weeper started, and faith and courage 

high, 
Gave sudden colour to her cheek, and brightness to 

her eye, 
While she spoke in words which sounded like a 

whisper from above, 
An angel-message sent us by the God of light and 

love : — 



34 A Parti?ig Scene. 



" Not so, my friend and brother ! I take this hand 

again, 
In token of a lasting bond, unbroken to remain ! 
Still as mine own I claim it, I clasp it to my heart; 
For those in Christ united, not death itself can part !" 

Then a gleam of heavenly radiance illumed those 

dying eyes, 
Like sunbeams breaking suddenly through clouded 

evening skies; — 
And thus a noble spirit passed from mortal toils away, 
And earthly twilight was exchanged for everlasting 

day! 






" At Evening time there shall be Light." 35 







" AT EVENING TIME THERE SHALL 
BE LIGHT." 




fIGHT at the evening time! 

Oh, blessed hope, when on the waters 
dark 

Faith's straining eye can scarce discern the Ark, 
And the poor dove, in weary flight around, 
No olive branch has found ! 



Light at the evening time ! 
Oh, blessed hope, when brightest suns have set 
In strange eclipse, while it was noonday yet, 
And we remain in chill and silent fear 

Within the shadow drear ! 



36 " At Evening time there shall be Light." 

Light at the evening time ! 
Oh, precious promise, shining through the gloom, 
When a sad nation stands around the tomb 
Where Genius sleeps, and dearest hopes are laid 

Low in death's awful shade ! 

Light at the evening time ! 
Oh, cheering thought, when Thy mysterious ways 
Leave us, O Father, in the strange amaze 
Where faith can only anchor on that word, 

" So hast thou willed, good Lord [ n 

Light at the evening time ! 
Yes, suddenly and dark the thunder-cloud 
May wrap the skies of noon in deepest shroud, 
But the sun is not quenched, — a golden ray 

Shall come ere close of day. 

Light at the evening time ! 
Oh, God of love! no darkness dwells with thee, 
And in thy light at last we light shall see; 
Thy covenant of promise faileth never, — 

Thine own are thine for ever! 



" At Evening time there shall be Light." 3 7 

Light at the evening time! 
Let us walk forward, through the cloudy day, 
Till we arrive where storms are passed away, 
And all eternity's disclosures tell, 

God hath done all things well ! 

December 29, 1856. 




38 



Prayer out of the Depths. 




PRAYER OUT OF THE DEPTHS. 



' From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my 
heart is overwhelmed : lead me to the rock that is 
higher than I." — Ps. lxi. 2. 



PjPjilLL in weakness, all in sorrow, 
ffft vl O m y God, I come once more, 
£2*l2S Lifting up the sad petition 
Thou hast often heard before, 
In the former days of darkness, 
In the time of need of yore. 

For a present help in trouble 

Thou hast never ceased to be, 
Since at first a weeping sinner 

Fell before thee trustingly; 
And thy voice is ever sounding, 

" O ye weary, come to Me." 



Prayer out of the Depths. 39 

Lord, thou knowest all the weakness 
Of the creatures thou hast made, 

For with mortal imperfection 

Thou didst once thy glory shade; 

Thou hast loved and thou hast sorrowed, 
In the veil of flesh arrayed. 

Thus I fear not to approach thee 

With my sorrow and my care ; 
Hear my mourning supplication, 

Cast not out my humble prayer ! 
Lay not on a greater burden 

Than thy feeble child can bear! 



Earth has lost its best attractions, 
All the brightest stars are gone, — 

All is clouded now and cheerless, 
Where so long a glory shone : 

Where I walked with loved companions, 
I must wander now alone. 



40 Prayer out of the Depths. 

All is dark on the horizon, 
Clouds returning after rain ; — 

Faith is languid, Hope is weary, 
And the questions rise again, 

" Doth the promise fail for ever? 
Hast thou made all men in vain?" 



O my God, rebuke the tempter, 

Let not unbelief prevail ! 
Pray for me, thy feeble servant, 

That my weak faith may not fail, 
Nor my Hope let go her anchor 

When the waves and storms assail! 



All these passing, changing shadows, 
All these brief, bright joys below,— 

Let me grasp them not so closely, 
Nor desire nor prize them so ! 

Nor endure this bitter anguish 
When thou bid's! me let them go! 



Prayer out of the Depths. 4 1 

Redeemer, shall one perish 
Who has looked to thee for aid? 

Let me see thee, let me hear thee, 
Through the gloomy midnight shade ! 

Let me hear thy voice of comfort, 
"It is I; be not afraid!" 

For when feeling thou art near me, 

All my loneliness is o'er, 
And the tempter's dark suggestions 

Can oppress my soul no more; — 

1 shall dread the path no longer 
Where thyself hast gone before. 

And the lights of earth all fading, 

I can gaze on tearlessly, 
When the glory that excelleth, 

When the light of life, I see. 
Whom beside, in earth or heaven, 

Should my heart desire, but thee? 



4^ 



All things neiu. 




ALL THINGS NEW. 




2 Cor. v. i 7 ; Rev. xxi. 5. 

HOU makest all things new! 
Old things have passed away,- 
and fears, 



-the hopes 



The joys and griefs, of unconverted years: 

And as they sunk at once, or slowly fled. 

Some sighs were heaved, some bitter tears were shed ; 

For not without a pang can the fond heart 

From its long-cherished idols bear to part: 

But that is over, — if some joys were there, 

Oh, how much more of sorrow and of care ! 

Let them depart; or, in the silent hour 

When Memory reigns with her resistless power, 

If they return to haunt the soul again 

With fond regrets, and images of pain, 



All things new. 43 



Then to thyself, all weary and oppressed, 
Help us, Lord, to fly, and find our rest; 
And let all mental storm and conflict cease, 
Before thy words of blessing and of peace. 

Thou makest all things new! 
Within the broken heart new hopes arise, 
New prospects cheer the mourner's weeping eyes; 
Over the gloomy past a light has shone, 
And all its phantoms of despair are flown ; 
From the dark future comes a cheering ray, 
The smiling dawn of an eternal day. 
New sweetness breathes in every present bliss, 
And sorrow's cup has lost its bitterness; 
New motives, objects, energies, extend 
All through life's journey, to the welcome end. 
— Shame on the faithless heart and feeble knees 
Which falter on, uncheered by thoughts like these ! 
Rather, with hearts enlarged, and eager pace, 
Strengthen us, Lord, to run th' appointed race, 
Above all nature's weakness bravely rise, 
And press towards the mark, to gain the prize ! 



44 4. /I things new. 



Thou makest all things new! 
New upon earth, and, oh ! what vistas given 
Of brighter hopes to be fulfilled in heaven ! 
Eye hath not seen, and words may not declare, 
The things prepared for thy redeemed ones there; 
Where countless myriads, one in heart and voice, 
In the new song of love and praise rejoice, — 
"Worthy art thou, O Saviour divine; 
Glory and honour be for ever thine ! 
For us thyself hast suffered and obeyed, — 
With thine own blood our ransom thou hast paid; 
Now faultless we appear before thy throne, — 
The bliss is ours, the glory all thine own : 
Strong in thy strength, the weakest have prevailed, 
Of all thy promises not one has failed, — 
All is fulfilled, which faith and hope received, 
When on the earth we saw not, yet believed; 
All the report we heard in days of old, 
All has been true, — but not the half was told!" 



L 



<rjc£^^^ 



Ebenezer. 



45 





EBENEZER. 

" Hitherto hath the Lord helped us." — I Sam. vii. 12. 

jHUS far the Lord hath led us on, — in dark- 
ness and in day, 
Through all the varied stages of the narrow 
homeward way. 
Long since, he took that journey, he trod that path 

alone ; 
Its trials and its dangers full well himself hath known. 

Thus far the Lord hath led us, — the promise has not 

failed, 
The enemy encountered oft has never quite prevailed : 
The shield of faith has turned aside, or quenched 

each fiery dart; 
The Spirit's sword, in weakest hands, has forced him 

to depart. 



46 Ebenezer. 

Thus far the Lord hath led us, — the waters have been 

high, 
But yet in passing through them we felt that he was 

nigh. 
A very present helper in trouble we have found ; 
His comforts most abounded when our sorrows did 

abound. 

Thus far the Lord hath led us, — our need has been 
supplied, 

And mercy has encompassed us about on every side; 

Still falls the daily manna, the pure rock-fountains flow, 

And many flowers of love and hope along the way- 
side grow. 

Thus far the Lord hath led us, — and will he now for- 
sake 

The feeble ones whom for his own it pleased him to 
take? 

Oh, never, never ! earthlv friends may cold and faith- 
less prove, 

But his is changeless pity, and everlasting love. 



Ebe?iezer. 47 



Calmly we look behind us, on joys and sorrows past; 
We know that all is mercy now, and shall be well at 

last. 
Calmly we look before us, — we fear no future ill; 
Enough for safety and for peace, if thou art with us 

still. 

Yes, " They that know thy name, O Lord, shall put 

their trust in thee," 
While nothing in themselves but sin and helplessness 

they see. 
The race thou hast appointed us, with patience we 

can run; 
Thou wilt perform unto the end the work thou hast 

begun. 




4 8 



Labour for Christ. 




LABOUR FOR CHRIST. 

" Always abounding in the work of the Lord. 1 
i Cor. xv. 58. 






tj^sjgalOME, labour on! 

IjPPpsi Who dares stand idle on the harvest plain? 

' ^* While all around him waves the golden 

grain, 
And to each servant does the Master say, 
"Go, work to-day!" 



Come, labour on ! 
Claim the high calling angels cannot share,— 
To young and old the gospel gladness bear; 
Redeem the time, its hours too swiftly fly, 

The night draws nigh. 



Labour for Christ. 49 



-Come, labour on! 
The labourers are few, the field is wide, 
New stations must be filled, and blanks supplied ; 
From voices distant far, or near at home, 
The call is, " Come ! 

Come, labour on! 
The enemy is watching, night and day, 
To sow the tares, to snatch the seed away. 
While we in sleep our duty have forgot, 

He slumbered not. 

Come, labour on ! 
Away with gloomy doubts and faithless fear ! 
No arm so weak but may do service here ; 
By feeblest agents can our God fulfil 

His righteous will. 

Come, labour on ! 
No time for rest, till glows the western sky, 
While the long shadows o'er our pathway lie, 
And a glad sound comes with the setting sun, — 

" Servants, well done !" 



5° 



Labour for Christ, 



Come, labour on ! 
The toil is pleasant, the reward is sure, 
Blessed are those who to the end endure ; — 
How full their joy, how deep their rest shall be, 

O Lord, with thee ! 




Rest. 



5 1 




REST. 




" We which have believed do enter into rest." — Heb. iv. 3. 

[EST, weary soul! 

The penalty is borne, the ransom paid, 
For all thy sins full satisfaction made ; 
Strive not thyself to do what Christ has done, 
Claim the free gift, and make the joy thine own. 
No more by pangs of guilt and fear distrest, 
Rest, sweetly rest ! 

Rest, weary heart! 
From all thy silent griefs and secret pain, 
Thy profitless regrets and longings vain ; 
Wisdom and love have ordered all the past, 
All shall be blessedness and light at last; 
Cast off the cares that have so long opprest, — 

Rest, sweetly rest ! 



5 2 Rest. 

Rest, weary head ! 
Lie down to slumber in the peaceful tomb, 
Light from above has broken through its gloom. 
Here, in the place where once thy Saviour lay, 
Where he shall wake thee on a future day, 
Like a tired child upon its mother's breast, 

Rest, sweetly rest ! 

Rest, spirit free ! 
In the green pastures of the heavenly shore, 
Where sin and sorrow can approach no more ; 
With all the flock by the Good Shepherd fed, 
Beside the streams of life eternal led, 
For ever with thy God and Saviour blest, — 

Rest, sweetly rest ! 




The Desired Haven. 



53 





THE DESIRED HAVEN.* 

" Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according 
to thy word." — Luke ii. 29. 

ORD, the waves are breaking o'er me and 
around; 
Oft of coming tempests I hear the moan- 
ing sound; 
Here there is no safety, rocks on either hand, — 
Tis a foreign roadstead, a strange and hostile land; 
Wherefore should I linger 1 others gone before 
Long since safe are landed on a calm and friendly 

shore : 
Now the sailing orders in mercy, Lord, bestow, — 
Loose the cable, let me go ! 



* These verses were first printed, by a mistake, among some 
translations from the German. 



54 The Desired Haven. 



Lord, the night is closing round my feeble bark ; 
How shall I encounter its watches long and dark? 
Sorely worn and shattered by many a billow past, 
Can I stand another rude and stormy blast? 
Ah ! the promised haven I never may attain, 
Sinking and forgotten amid the lonely main; 
Enemies around me, gloomy depths below, — 
Loose the cable, let me go ! 

Lord, I would be near thee, with thee where thou art; 
Thine own word hath said it, 'tis l better to depart.' 
There to serve thee better, there to love thee more, 
With thy ransomed people to worship and adore. 
Ever to thy presence thou dost call thine own ; 
Why am I remaining, helpless and alone? 
Oh, to see thy glory, thy wondrous love to know ! — 
Loose the cable, let me go ! 

Lord, the lights are gleaming from the distant shore, 
Where no billows threaten, where no tempests roar. 
Long beloved voices calling me I hear, — 
Oh, how sweet their summons falls upon my ear ! 



The Desired Haven. 5 5 



Here are foes and strangers, faithless hearts and cold ; 
There is fond affection, fondly proved of old ! 
Let me haste to join them; may it not be so] — 
Loose the cable, let me go!" 

Hark, the solemn answer! — hark, the promise sure! 

" Blessed are the servants who to the end endure ! 

Yet a little longer hope and tarry on, 

Yet a little longer, weak and weary one ! 

More to perfect patience, to grow in faith and love ; 

More my strength and wisdom and faithfulness to 

prove ; 
Then the sailing orders the Captain shall bestow, — 
Loose the cable, let thee go!" 




56 



The Call Obeyed. 




THE CALL OBEYED. 

" Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I 
will give you rest." — Matt. xi. 28. 

flAVIOUR, I come for rest! 
To thy call of love replying, 
On thy word of grace relying, 
All weary and opprest; 
My sin, and grief, and care, 
Now to thy feet I bring, to leave them there. 




I wandered long and far, 
In the groves of Folly playing, 
On the wastes of Error straying, 

No guard or guiding star; 

Blindly I wandered on, 
Seeking around for rest, and finding none. 



The Call Obeyed. 57 



All became cold and drear, — 
The wayside blossoms faded, 
Dark clouds the sunshine shaded, 

No sound of hope or cheer; 

Darkness on all the past, 
And a dark gulf before, which must be reached at last. 

But then thy voice I heard; — 
O how free the invitation ! 
O how glorious the salvation 

Revealed in every word ! 

I heard, as captives hear 
The trumpet tones which tell of a deliverer near. 



I heard, and I obey. 
Thy precious blood has bought me, 
Thy wondrous love has sought me, 
And brought me here to-day, — 
Here, to thy mercy's throne, 
Pleading thy power to save, thy merits to atone. 



58 The Call Obeyed. 



My Saviour, thou wilt hear! 
Simply thy love believing, 
Freely thy grace receiving, 

Why should I doubt or fear ? 

Unchanged thy words remain, 
That not one sinful soul should seek thy grace in vain. 

Whom can I seek but thee? 
Thou hast borne the load so weary, 
Thou hast trod the path so dreary. 

To set the captives free. 

No further would I roam, 
But close to thee abide, through all my journey home. 

Home, with thyself at last ! 
In the clear light of heaven 
To see all sin forgiven, 

All grief and danger past, 

For ever safe and blest! — 
Lord, I believe, I love, I enter into rest ! 



" Songs in the Night' 



59 




"SONGS IN THE NIGHT." 

* In the night his song shall be with me." — Ps, xlii. 8. 

S it night with thee, my brother % 
Is there darkness on thy soul 1 
Over the hopes and joys of earth 
Do the clouds of sorrow roll 1 
Is thy spirit faint within thee, 
Watching for morning light ? 
Come, then, let us sing together, 

A song of faith, in the night. 




Let us cheer the hours of darkness 
With a tale of sunshine past, 
Or thoughts of a glory yet to shine 

When the morning breaks at last; 



60 " Songs in the Night." 

Through our present toil and sorrow 
Let us look for joys to come, 
And sing in the exile stranger land 
Of the love and rest at home. 

In weariness, pain, and weakness, 
Have thy long years passed away? 
Is thy free born spirit imprisoned now 
In its shattered house of clay? 
Come, sing of the joyful moment 
That will set the captive free ; 
Of the new, and strong, and deathless frame 
Which at length thine own shall be. 

Has many a hope deceived thee % 
Has many a promise failed ? 
Has the Enemy, with his fiery darts, 
Oft thy sinking soul assailed % 
Think of the mighty Victor 

Who has braved for thee his power, — 
We may sing of the conquest Christ hath won, 
In our weakest and darkest hour. 



" Songs in the Night T 61 

To the cold, dark place of silence, 
Are thy best beloved ones gone % 
In the ways so often together trod 
Must thou sadly walk alone % 
Listen, and catch some echoes, 
Some notes of a heavenly strain ; 
We shall sing it soon in our Father's house, 
• When the lost are found again. 

Or is a yet deeper anguish 
Oppressing thy lonely heart? 
Is it sadder far from living love 

Than from buried love to part ] 
Turn from earth's failing friendships 
To the sinner's changeless Friend, 
And sing of Him, who has loved us long, 
Who will love us " to the end." 

Yes, sing in the night, my brother, 
A soft and a soothing song 
Of Him, whose faithfulness and love 
Will give to thee light ere long. 



62 


" Songs in the Night? 




Sing on, though but low and broken 




As yet may the accents rise, — 


At 


length they shall mingle, full and clear, 




In the anthem of the skies ! 




4||^ 




^IK , *'">»Srm§a}f ? r£a 




' 



Wells of Marah. 



63 




WELLS OF MARAH. 

" And they went three days in the wilderness, and found no 
water. And when they came to Marah, they could not 
drink of the waters of Marah, for they were bitter." — 
Exod. xv. 22, 23. 

IK*/B3?ilF Marah' s bitter fountains the hosts of Israel 

yfa*>* *™\ As evening closes round them, a sad and 

weary band. 
While sounds of lamentation rise in the summer air, 
The wail of woman's anguish, the groan of man's 
despair. 



Three days of desert journey their pilgrim feet have 
trod, 

Since through the parted billows they took their mid- 
night road; 



L- 



r 

64 Wells of Mar ah. 



And since on those returning waves the morning sun- ! 
beams shone, 

No other waters have they found, in all their journey- 
ing on. 

One hope alone sustained them, and hushed the 

thought of fear, — 
" The wells of Marah are at hand, each hour we come 

more near:" 
And now they gain the fountain side, they stand upon 

the brink, 
They see the limpid water rise, they taste — and dare 

not drink ! 

O bitter disappointment! O hope deferred, deceived! 
Where is the guide they trusted, where the promise 

they believed ] 
We blame the weakness of their faith, but sorely it 

was tried ; 
And even Moses' heart might sink, till to the Lord 

he cried. 



Wells of Marah. 6 5 



Ah! still the wells of Marah lie beside our pilgrim 
way, 

And Israel's old sorrow may be still our own to-day ; 

When some loved object long desired, and long pur- 
sued, we gain, 

And find too late the glory fled, the hope and promise 
vain. 

Well then for those, in such an hour, who know what 

Moses knew, 
And turn to Him who changeth not, the faithful One 

and true ; 
And from his loving heart receive, and from his 

gracious hand, 
The cure for every ill they meet through all the 

desert land. 

For in the wilderness of earth still grows the healing 

tree, 
Unchanged in all its wondrous power to soothe and 

remedy; 



66 Wells of Marah. 

Still, answering the cry of faith, will God the gift 

bestow, 
To pour a sweetness in each cup of bitter human 

woe. 

And of that mighty secret when our spirits are 

possest, 
We bless the storm that drove us to the haven of our 

rest; 
We bless the disappointments that have darkened 

earthly skies, 
And taught our hearts to nobler joys above the clouds 

to rise. 

And now we do not ask to pass the bitter fountains by, 
But that our God may meet us there, to bless and 

sanctify ; 
And so to lead us onward, till the wilderness be 

passed, 
And safely to the land of rest we enter in at last 



Memories. 



67 




MEMORIES. 




|HEN fall the evening shadows, long and 
deep, across the hill, 
When all the air is fragrance, and all the 
breezes still ; 



When the summer sun seems pausing above the 

mountain's brow, 
As if he left reluctantly a scene so lovely now; — 



Then I linger on the pathway, and I fondly gaze, and 

long, 
As if reading some old stoiy those deep purple clouds 

among. 



68 Jlfemories. 



Then Memory approaches, holding up her magic 

glass, 
Pointing to familiar figures, which across the surface 

pass. 

And often do I question, as I view that phantom 

train, 
Whether most with joy or sadness I behold them 

thus again. 

They are there, those scenes of beauty, where life's 

brightest hours have fled, 
And I haste, with dear companions, the old paths 

again to tread ; 

But suddenly dissolving, all the loveliness is flown, — 
I find a thorny wilderness, where I must walk alone. 

Thou art there, so loved and honoured, as in each 

former hour, 
When we read thine eye's deep meaning, when we 

heard thy words of power ; 



Me??iories. 69 



When our souls, as willing captives, have sought to 

follow thine, 
Tracing the eternal footsteps of Might and Love 

Divine. 

But o'er that cherished image falls a veil of clouds 

and gloom, 
And beside a bier I tremble, or I weep above a tomb. 

And ever will the question come, O Memory ! again, 
Whether in thy magic mirror there is most of bliss or 
pain 1 

Would I not wish the brightness were for ever hid 
from view, 

If but those hours of darkness could be all for- 
gotten too 1 

Then weary and desponding, my spirit seeks to rise 
Away from earthly conflicts, from mortal smiles or 

sighs. 



70 Memories. 



I do not think the blessed ones with Jesus have 

forgot 
The changing joys and sorrows which have marked 

their earthly lot; 

But now, on Memory's record their eyes can calmly 

dwell ; 
They can see, what here they trusted, God hath done 

all things well. 

And vain regrets and longings are as old things 

passed away, — 
No shadows dim the sunshine of that bright eternal 

day ! 

July 1857. 




\^r 



1 Let there be LwhtT 



7* 





" LET THERE BE LIGHT." 

ET there be light ! oh, speak that word again, 
Father of mercies, to this longing heart! 
Come to my soul, like sunshine after rain, 
Bidding the clouds of grief and fear depart. 

On memory's desert places, — on the ways 

Where sadly I have walked through sorrow's night, 

Now let the star of promise shed its rays, 

Now, looking back, O God, let there be light ! 



I 



Let there be light, where shades the deepest fall 
Of long-remembered sins, remorse, despair: 

Shine upon Calvary's cross, and show me all 
Endured for me by the great Sufferer there. 



72 " Let there be Light." 

Let there be light upon the lowly tomb, 

Where grief too deep for tears has bowed my 
head; 
Some rays from heaven to dissipate the gloom, 

Beneath whose shadow one loved spirit fled. 

Give light on those sad hours, whose parting pain 
Still thrills with anguish through the years long 
past; 

Light on the meeting-place, where once again 
Love hopes to find her own with thee at last ; 

Light on the future journey, all unknown, 
The chequered path of life which lies before ; 

Light on its close, — the valley dark and lone, 
The Jordan's stormy wave, and distant shore. 

Why should I walk in darkness, when thy light, 
O Sun of Righteousness, shines here around 1 

When to the land where there is no more night, 
Now, by thy grace, my pilgrim' steps are bound ] 



" Let there be Light" 



73 



Give light, O Lord ! or if it still delay, 
If still a shaded pathway mine must be, 

Give the calm faith that watches for the day, 
And through the darkness trusts and rests on 
thee. 




74 



Awakenings, 




AWAKENINGS. 




| ROM thy long winter sleep, 
Nature, arise!" 
Thus speaks the Voice divine 
From yonder skies. 
Then murmurs soft and low 

Answer the call, — 
Voices of bird and bee, 

And fountain's fall 
The balmy breezes come, 

The gentle rain ; 

All over vale and hill 

Life wakes again. 

" From sin's long deadly sleep, 

Poor soul, arise!" 
Thus sounded Mercy's voice 

From yonder skies. 



Awakenings. 75 



Then Satan's captive woke, 

And burst his chain, 
The dreams of midnight fled, 

All false and vain. 
The mighty Friend drew near, 

Faithful and true; 
Old things had passed away, 

All was made new! 

" From sorrow's heavy sleep, 

Sad heart, arise!" 
So spoke the voice of Love 

From yonder skies. 
Then through fast falling tears 

Hope's rainbow stole; 
Her soothing song was heard 

Within my soul, — 
" His promise hath not failed 

Through the sad past; 
Weeping has long endured, 

Joy comes at last!" 



7 6 Awakenings. 



" From death's long winter sleep, 

My people, rise!" 
Soon shall that summons sound 

From yonder skies. 
Then from far severed graves, 

O'er land and sea, 
How gladly shall we haste, 

O Lord, to thee ! 
Soon shall that morning dawn, 

This night be gone ; — 
Beloved ones ! till then 

In hope rest on ! 




Streams by the Way. 



77 




STREAMS BY THE WAY. 

' ■ I give waters in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert, to 
give drink to my people, my chosen." — ISA. xliii. 20, 




|HE channels are on earth, the fountain is above, 
Hid in the secret depths of God's unchang- 
ing love ; 
And, as we onward go, 
The healing waters flow, 
Refreshing weary souls and fainting hearts below. 



Have we not found it thus, thro' all the changing past? 
Is not the promise sure, unfailing to the last 1 

Even in a desert land, 

If but our Lord command, 
Rivers of hope shall rise, and flow on either hand. 



7$ Streams by the Way. 



Arise, believing soul ! give praise with cheerful voice, 
And in thy Father's gifts with thankful heart rejoice ; — 

His earnests, and no more, 

Of better things in store, 
Ready to fill thy cup, when days on earth are o'er. 

Arise, desponding heart ! if here the streams be dry, 
Still in the springs above remains a full supply. 

No longer sadly mourn 

Beside a broken urn, 
But to the Source itself for living waters turn. 

Forward, in Jesus' name ! our journey is unknown, 
But well we know the end, before our Fathers throne ; 

There, at the fountain side, 

For ever to abide, 
All labours overpaid, all longings satisfied ! 



Looking unto Jesus. 







LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 

•We would see Jesus." — John xii. 21. 

"traE would see Jesus; — all is gloom around us, 

yM Dark shadows falling from the yearsgoneby ; 

I The sins of other days, like phantoms rising, 




Lifting their hands for justice to the sky ! 
Where shall we hide us from these pale accusers ? 

How shall we answer to the judgment call ? 
Oh, for one sight of him, our own Redeemer, 

Bearing our guilt, paying our ransom all ! 



We would see Jesus; — we are worn and weary 
Beneath the heat and burden of the day; 

Each with his load of care, or toil, or sorrow, 
Readv to faint and falter bv the way. 



Looking u?ito Jesus. 



Yet in the very path which we are treading, 
On earth, O Lord, we know thyself hast gone ; 

Oh, to behold thee there, our Friend, our Brother, 
Guiding and guarding, as we journey on! 

We would see Jesus ; — dearest ties are breaking, 

Lovely and loving ones have left our side, — 
Is there one bond which death will not dissever, 

One friend from whom the grave will not divide 1 
There is ! there is ! the Lord of life remaineth, 

The same to-day as he hath been of yore; 
And faith, the everlasting Friend beholding, 

Can part from all beside, and weep no more. 

We would see Jesus; — daily come we nearer 

To the dark valley and the lonely tomb, — 
Who shall uphold us on that unknown journey'? 

What star of hope shall light us through the gloom? 
O Christ, forsake us not ! thou dost remember 

Thy mortal anguish, on thy heavenly throne: 
Reveal thyself, when earth is disappearing, — 

Come in the hour of need and save thine own! 



Looking unto Jesus. 



We would see Jesus; — oh, that blissful vision 

Is all we ask, to bid our fears depart ! 
So shall we hasten on, in shade or sunshine, 

With step unwearied, and unshrinking heart. 
Abide with us, good Lord ! the evening closes ; 

No longer leave us, till the shadows flee, 
Till the bright morning dawn, when thou shalt call us 

For ever, where thou art, to dwell with thee. 




82 



" Good Tidings of Great Joy." 





" GOOD TIDINGS OF GREAT JOY." 

Luke ii. 10. 

E asked an Indian brother,"' a warrior of old, 
How first among his people the Glad Tid- 
ings had been told \ 
How first the Morning Star arose on their long 

heathen night, 
Till souls who "sat in darkness" were rejoicing in 
the light? 

And he answered, " Many a summer has come and 

gone since then, 
Yet well I can remember — I can see it all again. 



* John Tschcop, one of the first converts of the Moravian 
missionaries among the North American Indians. — See CRANTZ' 
History* 



" Good Tidings of Great Joy." 83 

A teacher carne among us, from the country of your 

birth. 
And told us of the living God, who made the heaven 

and earth; — 
But we asked if he had been a fool, or thought that 

we were so; 
For who among our sons did not the one Great Spirit 

know % 

So he left us ; — and another told us much of sin and 
shame, 

And how for sinners was prepared a lake of quench- 
less flame ; — 

But we bade him teach these things at home, among 
the pale-faced men, 

And if they learned the lesson right, we too would 
listen then. 

At last another stranger came, of calm and gentle mien, 
And eyes whose light seemed borrowed from yon blue 
the clouds between ; 



84 " Good Tidings of Great Joy'' 

Still in my dreams I hear his voice, his smile I still 

can see, 
Though many a summer he has slept beneath the 

cedar tree! 

He told us of a Mighty One, the Lord of earth and 

sky, 
Who left his glory in the heavens for men to bleed 

and die; 
Who loved poor Indian sinners still, and longed to 

gain their love, 
And be their Saviour here, and in his Father's house 

above. 

And when his tale was ended — ' My friends/ he 

gently said, 
1 1 am weary with my journey, and would fain lay 

down my head;' — 
So beside our spears and arrows he laid him down to 

rest, 
And slept as sweetly as the babe upon its mother's 

breast. 



" Good Tidings of Great Joy." 85 

Then we looked upon each other, and I whispered, 

1 This is new, — 
Yes, we have heard glad tidings, and that sleeper 

knows them true 1 
He knows he has a Friend above, or would he slumber 

here, 
With men of war around him, and the war whoop in 

his ear]' 

So we told him on the morrow, that he need not 
journey on, 

But stay and tell us further of that loving, dying One. 

And thus we heard of Jesus first, and felt the won- 
drous power 

Which makes his people willing in his own accepted 
hour." 

Thus spoke our Indian brother; and deeply, while 

we heard, 
One cheering lesson seemed impressed, and taught by 

every word — 



M G p of Great J. 

How hearts, whose echoes, silent long, no words of ! 

terror move, 
May answer from their inmost depths to the soft call j 

of. 

O mighty love of Jesus! what wonders thou hast 
wrought ! 
! What victories thou yet shalt gain, surpassing human 
thought ! 
Faith and Hope speed forward unto earth's 
remotest bound, 
Till ever}- tribe and nation shall have heard the joyful 
sound! 







Thtrc is Rest h 





p ^€r v vi^^rV 



•THERE IS REST AT HOME 

at home ! the words were spoken on a J 
journey long and drear, 
By a faithful, loving comrade, with a sir. 
of hope and cheer, 



:. with weariness and weakness I was 
overcome, — 
" Courage, brother! let us onward, the: for us 

at hom- 

at home ! a deeper meaning even then my 
kr.e 
While a sweerer home than earth could give seemed 
brought before m 

^gested by an article in Tkc Family Pa^ar^ March : 



88 " TJiere is Rest at Homer 

And dearer, brighter hopes than he was seeking to 

impart, 
Gave new vigour to my sinking frame, new courage to 

my heart 

And though that toilsome journey is a trial long 

gone by, 
Still its memory I cherish, and I would not let it die ; 
For in many a day of darkness, of perplexity, of 

pain, 
It has nerved me for the conflict, or the pilgrimage 

again. 

In hours of midnight solitude, when soothing sleep 

has fled, 
And records of the varied past with sad heart I have 

read, — 
When the burdens of the present hour, its duties and 

its care, 
Have seemed beyond what failing strength or feeble 

faith could bear, — 



" There is Rest at Homer 89 

Or when looking to the future, with a deep foreboding 

sigh, 
I have watched the darkening shadows of new troubles 

drawing nigh ; — 
Then, like a message from above, again the words 

have come, 
" Courage, brother! hasten forward, there is rest for 

us at home ! " 

There, among the many mansions, by Himself pre- 
pared and blest, 

Who called on earth the sinful and the weary to 
His rest ; 

Where error, and temptations, and afflictions all 
are o'er, 

And the dread of coming partings shall oppress the 
heart no more, — 

Oh ! with this hope before us set, this prospect drawing 

near, 
With every changing season, with each brief revolving 

year, 



9° 



There is Rest at Home." 



How gladly may we labour on, how earnestly 

obey, 
How lightly think of trials or of dangers by the 

way ! 




The Hill Difficulty. 



9i 




THE HILL DIFFICULTY. 

I beheld then, that they all went on till they came to the 
foot of the Hill Difficulty ; at the bottom of which was 

a spring Christian now went to the spring, anddrank 

thereof to refresh himself." (Isa. xli. 17, 18.) — Bunyan. 



jHOU must go forward, pilgrim ! 
Ri 'ht up the hill; 
The path is straight before thee, 
Right onward still. 
By that ascent, so rugged, 

Thy Lord has gone ; 
His people all must follow, — 
Press boldly on ! 

Thou must go forward, pilgrim! 

Turn not aside, 
Try not the tempting byways 

Others have tried. 



9 2 The Hill Difficulty. 

They have but strayed, and fallen 

To rise no more \ 
True danger lies behind thee, 

Safety before ! 

Thou must go forward, pilgrim ! 

Yet linger, — stay 
One moment, at the fountain 

Here by the way. 
The Master, on his journey, 

Opened that spring, 
Refreshment to the weary, 

And strength to bring. 

Hid in its depths of crystal 

A mirror lies, 
Where scenes of coming glory 

May meet thine eyes. 
Softly its murmuring waters 

Repeat a tale, 
Of mercy ever flowing, 

Never to fail. 



The Hill Difficulty. 93 



Kneel by the brink, so verdant, — 

Bathe thy hot brow, — 
Drink of the waters deeply, — 

Press forward now ! 
Dread not the midnight darkness, 

The lion's roar, — 
Destruction lies behind thee, 

Heaven is before ! 

Thou must go forward, Christian, 
O'er many a hill; 

Yet shrink not from the prospect- 
Press onward still ! 

Beside each mount of trial, 
Each toil or pain, 

The fountain of refreshment 
Shall flow again. 



May 1861, 



94 



The Delectable Mountains. 




THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS. 

1 And then, said they, we will, if the day be clear, shew 

you the Delectable Mountains So he looked, 

and, behold, at a great distance he saw a most pleasant 
mountainous country, .... very delectable to behold, 
.... and it is as common, said they, as this hill is, to 
and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there, 
from thence thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial 
City." — Bunyan. 




| SEE them far away, — 

In their calm beauty, on the evening 
skies, 
Across the golden west their summits rise, 

Bright with the radiance of departing day. 
And often, ere the sunset light was gone, 
Gazing and longing, I have hastened on, 
As with new strength, all weariness and pain 
Forgotten in the hope those blissful heights to gain. 



The Delectable Mountains. 95 

Heaven lies not far beyond, — • 
But these are hills of earth, — our changeful air 
Circles around them, and the dwellers there 

Still own mortality's mysterious bond. 
The ceaseless contact, the continued strife 
Of sin and grace, which can but close with life, 
Is not yet ended, and the Jordan's roar 
Still sounds between their path and the celestial shore. 

But there, the pilgrims say, 
On these calm heights, the tumult and the noise 
Of all our busy cares and restless joys 

Has almost in the distance died away ; — 
All the past journey " a right way" appears; 
Thoughts of the future wake no faithless fears ; 
And through the clouds, to their rejoicing eyes, 
The City's golden streets and pearly gates arise. 

Look up, poor fainting heart ! 
These happy ones, in the far distance seen, 
Were sinful wanderers once, as thou hast been ; 

Weary and sorrowful, as now thou art. 



g6 The Ddictabh Mountains. 

Linger no longer on the lonely plain, 
Press boldly onward, and thou too shalt gain 
Their vantage-ground, and then with vigour new 
All thy remaining race and pilgrimage pursue. 

far too faint, too poor 
re all our views and aims, — we only stand 
rin the borders of the promised land, 
Its precious things we seek not to secure ; 
1 thus our hands hang down, and oft unstrung 
Our harps are left the willow trees among ; — ■ 
Lord, lead us forward, upward, till we know 
How much of heavenly bliss may be enjoyed below ! 












" 







LIVING WATI 
I 

Of a fair a 

Cold and 

he summer moon at n;: 
of 

And a good ang 
hour 

power; 

:in 
re but some drops i 
barren plain. 



98 Living Waters. 



So the traveller might journey, not now in fear and 

haste, 
Far through the mountain-wilderness, far o'er the 

sandy waste, 
If but he sought this fountain first, and from its 

wondrous store 
The secret of unfailing springs along with him he 

bore. 

Wild and fanciful the legend seems — yet may not 
meanings high, 

Visions of better things to come, within its shadow 
lie? 

Type of a fountain better far, to mortals now un- 
sealed, — 

The great salvation, full and free, in Christ our Lord 
revealed) 

Beneath the Cross those waters rise ; and he who finds 

them there 
All through the wilderness of life the living stream 

may bear; 



Living Waters. 99 



And blessings follow in his steps, until where'er he 

goes, 
The moral wastes begin to bud and blossom as the 

rose. 

Ho, every one that .thirsteth, hasten to this fountain 
side ! 

Drink freely of its waters pure, — drink, and be satis- 
fied. 

Yet linger not, but onward speed, and bear to all 
around 

Glad tidings of the love, and peace, and mercy thou 
hast found. 

To Afric's pathless deserts, or to Greenland's frozen 

shore, — 
Where din of multitudes may sound, or savage 

monsters roar, — 
Wherever man may wander with his heritage of woe, 
To tell of brighter things above, go, brothers, 

gladly go ! 



ioo Living Waters. 



Then, as of old in vision seen before the prophet's 

eyes, 
Broader and deeper, on its course, the stream of life 

shall rise ; 
And everywhere, as on it flows, shall carry light and 

love, 
Peace and goodwill to man on earth, glory to God 

above ! 









Our Widowed Queen. 



IOT 




OUR WIDOWED QUEEN. 

g'gllF we have loved her, in the days of gladness, 
1 jEji When all earth's choicest treasures were 
**3M her own, 

What do our hearts feel now, as we behold her 
In desolation and in tears, alone? 



If we have honoured her, in days of glory 
And blessings rarely on a throne enjoyed, 

What is our reverence for the pious mourner, — 
The stricken one, " cast down, but not destroyed V 



If we have prayed for her, in days of brightness, 
Asking Heaven's richest gifts to crown her head, 

What is the fervour now of each petition 
For the sad widow weeping o'er her dead? 



Our Widowed Queen. 



Let our tears answer, ever freshly flowing 

With each remembrance of that darkened home ; 

Let our prayers answer, night and morn ascending, 
From household altars, or cathedral dome. 

She seemed so far removed, above, beyond us. 
In the full noonday blaze of pomp and power ; — 

Now she is all our own, — a woman weeping, 
As we have wept, in sorrow's darkest hour! 

A nation's sympathy, a nation's prayers, — 
Oh, Lady, these are high and holy things! 

And the wild storm of woe, such fountains waking, 
Not grief alone, but blessing with it brings ! 

January 1862. 







On Leaving our old Church. 



io 3 




ON LEAVING OUR OLD CHURCH. 

To the Rev. T M . 




BE met once more, to-day, 
In our old house of prayer, 
With thoughts you could not know, 
Feelings you scarce could share; 
For busy Memory came 
And tarried with us there. 



Bright pictures of the past, 
Records of years gone by, 

The magic mirror showed 
To many a tearful eye ; — ■ 

Scenes we can ne'er forget, 
Feelings^ that will not die. 



104 On Leaving our old Church. 

A strangely varied train 

Of hopes, and joys, and woes; — 

Cares, from which weary hearts 
Here sought and found repose, — 

Sorrows, which He alone 

Whose mercy soothed them, knows, - 

Moments of rapture high, — 
Calm hours of blissful rest, 

When every sin was known 
Forgiven, as confest, 

And the glad spirit felt 
Of all in Christ possest. 

The pulpit words of power 

Scarce reached our hearts to-day; — 

An aged form seemed there, 
Bright in life's sunset ray, 

Whose voice of love you heard 
But as he passed away ! 



On Leaving our old Church. 105 

Forms you have never seen, — 

Voices you could not hear, — 
Honoured and loved on earth, 

And not in heaven less dear, — 
All were restored to-day, 

All seemed to re-appear ! 

Now, with a joyful heart, 

To a new, noble fane, 
You lead the way — and we 

Would not behind remain ; 
Yet pardon, if we cast 

One backward glance again. 

No ! we go forward now, 

With heart and spirit free, 
And the old word of cheer 

We trust fulfilled to see, — 
" As I with Moses was 

So will I be with thee." 

j'iinitary 5, 1862. 



io6 



"lam Thine, Save me? 




"I AM THINE, SAVE ME." 

" Fear not : for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy 
name; thou art mine." — ISA. xliii. I. 




]EAR my soul's earnest plea,- 
Save, Lord, save even me, 
For I am thine. 
This heart, once far astray, 
Now long has owned thy sway, 
Thy rights divine. 



In yon lone, silent spot, 
Where I thy presence sought, 

Thy voice I heard \ 
Obedient to thy call, 
To thee surrendered all, — 

Thou knowest, Lord! 



u I am Th ine, Save me. " 107 

Within yon house of prayer, 
One an id hundreds there. 

My vows I paid ; 
From other bonds set free, 
Body and soul to thee 

An offering made. 



Bear witness to it now, 
Angels, who heard the vow, 

Unseen, yet near! 
And spirits of the blest, 
Now in the heavenly rest, 

Then with me here ! 



Yet these I need not call ; — 
My God and Saviour, all 

Was known to thee ; 
Where hundreds praying stood. 
Or in deep solitude, 

All thou couldst see. 



i o 8 " I am Th ine. Save me. ' ' 

And thus, I dare to feel, 
I need not make appeal 

To grace alone; 
The honour of thy name 
Is bound to grant my claim, 

To save thine own. 



Shall the dark Tempter boast 
That aught of thine is lost ? 

Shall it be told 
That one became his prey, 
Drawn by his might away 

From out the fold] 



Never! my soul, secure, 
Rests in the promise sure 

Never to fail, — 
Though earth and hell combine, 
Against not one of thine 

Shall they prevail. 



"Jam Thine, Save me." 



109 



Yet let me hear thy voice 
Again bid me rejoice 

That I am thine. — 
" Poor soul, so dearly bought, 
So freely loved, — fear not, 

For thou art Mine!" 




no 



Lullaby. 





LULLABY. 

LEEP, baby, sleep ! 
Fond eyes are watching round thy cradle bed, 
Fond prayers ascend for blessings on thy head ; 

Fountains of love and hope, unknown before, 

Waked by that tiny hand, are flowing o'er; 

Joys long obscured by clouds of grief and pain, 

At the same gentle touch appear again; 

Sad, drooping hearts, have felt thy cheering power. 

Angel of comfort, from thine earliest hour! 
Sleep, baby, sleep! 



Sleep, baby, sleep ! 
I laste not to open those sweet violet eyes 
On all the wonders of our clouded skies, — 



Lullaby. 1 1 1 

The weariness of eve, the toil of noon, 
Knowledge of good and ill, must come too soon. 
All mortal joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, 
Wait 'midst the shadows of the future years ; 
But now enjoy thy portion calm and blest, — 
Love deep and tender — soft and dreamless rest ! 
Sleep, baby, sleep! 

Sleep, baby, sleep! 
We will not look before; — we know that He, 
Our risen Lord, was once a child like thee, 
And now in heaven, as while he sojourned here, 
Still to his heart the " little ones " are dear. 
Oh, God of love and pity, hear our prayer, — 
Take our frail treasure to thy tender care ! 
We trust her in the shadow of thy wings, 
The last and fairest of our precious things ! 

Sleep, baby, sleep! 

August 1862. 



112 



Autumn Voices. 




AUTUMN VOICES. 

|OICES of autumn, I hear you again, 

Thro' the dark forest, across the wide plain, 
Deep in the valley, and high on the hill, 
In the old places all murmuring still. 




Leaves slowly falling, and streams rushing fast, 
Evening breeze moaning, or night's fitful blast ;- 
All the old voices again I can hear \ 
Summer has passed away, winter is near. 

Once, oh ! how mournfully sounded each tone, 
Telling of happiness ended and flown \ 
Youth and hope vanishing, joys passing by, 
Age stealing onward, or death drawing nigh! 



Autumn Voices. 113 



Now it is over, that sadness and pain, 
With the old voices it comes not again, 
He who is gladdened by morning's bright ray, 
Thinks not of starlight then fading away. 



Since the " glad tidings " spoke peace to this heart, 
Life's darkest shadows have seemed to depart \ 
All nature's voices one story have told, — 
Goodness unchanging, to-day as of old. 



Autumn winds sweeping o'er fields brown and bare, 
Echo the reapers' song lingering there ; 
Autumn floods rushing by garner and store, 
Tell me of treasures in danger no more ; 



Flowers in their fading, and leaves as they fall, 
Long days of brightness and beauty recall ; — 
Why should I sorrow that these are now past 1 
Heaven's cloudless summer for ever shall last. 



8 



ii 4 



Autumn Voices. 



Oh that life's autumn, like nature's, may bring 
Some precious harvest from summer and spring ! 
Fruits which the Master may deign to approve, 
Laid on his altar, in meekness and love ! 




" Thy Will be Doner 



"5 




"THY WILL BE DONE." 



OUR little words, — no more, — 
Easy to say; 
But thoughts that went before, 
Can words convey ? 




The struggle, only known 
To one proud soul, 

And Him, whose eye alone 
Has marked the whole, — 



Before that stubborn will 

At last was broke, 
And a low "Peace, be still!" 

One soft Voice spoke. 



Il6 » Thy Will be Doner 



The pang, when that sad heart 

Its dreams resigned, 
And strength was found to part 

Those bonds long twined, — § 



To yield that treasure up, 
So fondly clasped, — 

To drain that bitter cup, 
So sadly grasped !— 



But all is calm at last, — 
"Thy will be done!" 

Enough, — the storm is past, 
The field is won. 



Now for the peaceful breast, 

The quiet sleep,— 
For soul and spirit rest, 

Tranquil and deep; 



Thy Will be Doner 117 



Rest, whose full bliss and power 

They only know, 
Who knew the bitter hour 

Of restless woe. 

The rebel will subdued, 

The fond heart free; 
" Thy will be done," — all good 

That comes from Thee. 

All weary thought and care, 

Lord, we resign ; 
Ours is to do — to bear, — 

To choose is thine. 

Four little words, — no more, — 

Easy to say; 
But what was felt before, 

Can words convey % 



Passing Away. 




PASSING AWAY. 




ASSING away ! how sad the thought ! 
From all of bright and fair below, — 
From songs of spring, and summer flowers. 
And autumn sunset's radiant glow. 
Never to gaze and muse again 

On the blue ocean's sounding shore, — 
To wander through the smiling vale, 

To climb the mountain heights no more! 

Hush that deep sigh, O faithless heart ! 

All that was lovely here, and bright, 
Has shone with but a borrowed ray, 

Reflected from celestial light. 
If under sin and sorrow's shade 

Such beauty has adorned thy way, 
What must remain to be revealed, 

In the good land of perfect day] 



Passing A way. i r 9 



Passing away! how sad the thought! 

* From all that makes this heart rejoice; — 
The fellowship of kindred souls, 

The music of affection's voice, 
The look, the smile, the words of love, 

All the dear ties around me twined, 
All the sweet counsel fondly shared, 

All these to lose — to leave behind ! 

Hush that deep sigh, O faithless heart ! 

Who thinks or says that Love can die ? 
An exile here, and " stranger guest," 

Her native home is in the sky. 
If pilgrims through the stranger land 

Can find communion here so sweet, 
What shall the joy, the rapture be, 

When in their Father's house they meet ? 

Passing away! — untrodden path, — 
Mysterious journey, dark, unknown, — 

The mortal shelter cast aside, 
The spirit going forth, alone ! 



1 2 o Passing A way. 



From the strange prospect shrinking back, 
I look, and long for some kind hand, 

Some friendly voice, to cheer, to guide 
Through the deep water floods to land! 

Where is thy faith, O doubting heart? 

Hath not thy Saviour gone before ) 
Down the dark valley, through the flood, 

The burden of our guilt he bore. 
'Tis He who calls thee; fear not now, 

Follow his guiding hand of love; 
Praise him for mercies here below, 

Trust him for better things above ! 




Sleep. 



121 




SLEEP. 



" Oh, lightly, lightly tread, 
A holy thing is sleep !" 

Mrs. Hemans. 

HE father sleeps, — hush, children ! wake 

him not ! 
That slumber deep is well and dearly 

bought. — 
Now the long day of heat and toil is past, 
The welcome shades of evening fall at last, 
Rest, weary one ! enjoy that calm repose 
Which rarely on his couch a monarch knows ; 
Sleep, undisturbed by dreams of guilt or fear, 
With all thy loving and beloved ones near, 
Sleep, and awake revived, refreshed, anew 
The path of loving labour to pursue ; 



> 2 Sleep. 

Thus days and years of honoured life to spend, 
Till the last summons meet thee at the end, 
Calling to better worlds thy soul away 
Softly as slumber falls at close of day ! 

The exile sleeps,— hush, stranger ! wake him not! 
Let home and friends be for a time forgot. 
Ah, not forgotten ! all so long in vain 
Desired, remembered, is his own again ! 
Yon dark banana grove he sees no more, 
He hears not now yon wild hycena's roar, 
Through the long vista of departed years, 
For other sights he sees, and sounds he hears : 
A blue lake trembles in the evening gleam, 
Down a deep glen rushes a mountain stream, — 
Half hid among the birches near the hill, 
On his fair home the sunset lingers still, 
And where those sands the wave and shore divide, 
A gentle maiden wanders by his side. 
Gaze on, fond dreamer ! all must vanish soon, 
Beneath the blaze of India's sultry noon— 



Sleep. 123 

All, save sad memories, must ere then be gone ; 
Enjoy the present bliss — dream on, dream on ! 

The sufferer sleeps, — breathe softly, wake him not ! 
The rest has come, so long and vainly sought. 
The hours of fevered restlessness are past, 
The weary eyelids gently close at last, 
Gone is the look of agony and care, 
Almost a smile those faded features wear ; 
Oh, surely God is good, and sleep's soft dew 
May the worn frame and wasted strength renew ! 
Sleep, dearest, sleep ! while Love long known and 

tried 
Watches with sleepless patience at thy side ; 
Watches, to hail the first glad look or word, 
Which tells that hope has dawned, that prayer is 

heard, 
That all those troubled days of pain and fear 
Shall soon but as a midnight dream appear, 
And joy, like morning sunbeams, yet shall come, 
And all be bright in thy now darkened home ! 



124 Sleep. 

The mourner sleeps, — tread lightly, wake him 
not! 
Let sorrow's pang be for a time forgot. 
In the bright spirit-land he wanders now, 
With heart unburdened, and unclouded brow. 
The dear departed he beholds once more, 
Loving and lovely as in days of yore ; 
Voices long silent all his pulses thrill, 
Eyes of deep love meet his like sunshine still ; 
From those fair forms all trace of slow decay, 
The shadow of the grave, has passed away, — 
Again united in. communion sweet, 
Spirit with spirit, heart with heart, they meet. 
Oh, blissful vision ! must he wake again, 
To find it all illusion, false and vain ? 
Dream on, sad heart ! but not of meetings here — 
Earth's passing joys, which smile and disappear — 
Dream of the brighter home, the better land, 
Where soon our weary feet in peace shall stand ; 
Where the Forerunner is before us gone, 
And all his own shall follow; — thus dream on ! 



Sleep. 125 

The Christian sleeps — in Jesus — blessed thought ! 
Hush, mourners ! though ye could, awake him not ! 
Would ye recall him from the home of bliss, 
The " better country" — to a land like this? 
To weep as we are weeping — all our pain, 
Temptations, conflicts, to endure again 1 
No, brother; slumber now and take thy rest, 
In the low sleeping-place which Christ has blessed, 
Till the great Easter morning light the skies, 
And all his people like Himself shall rise, 
Bright in his radiance, with his beauty fair, 
Ever his glory and his bliss to share. 
Oh, precious hope ! already from afar, 
Through sorrow's night we see the Morning Star; 
And, guided by its beams, we calmly lay 
Our sleeping ones to rest, to wait "that day !" 




I 26 



Mountains. 





MOUNTAINS. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF META IIAUSSER. 
{Free Translation.) 

HE everlasting hills !" how calm they rise, 
Bold witnesses to an Almighty hand ! 
We gaze with longing heart and eager 
eyes, 
And feel as if short pathway might suffice 

From those pure regions to the heavenly land. 

At early dawn, when the first rays of light 

Play like a rose-wreath on the peaks of snow, 
And late, when half the valley seems in night, 
Yet still around each pale majestic height 

The sun's last smile has left a crimson glow, — 



Mountains. 127 



Then the heart longs, it calls for wings to fly, — 

Above all lower scenes of earth to soar, 
Where yonder golden clouds arrested lie, 
Where granite cliffs and glaciers gleam on high, 
As with reflected light from heaven's own door. 

Whence this strange spell, by thoughtful souls confest* 
Ever in presence of the mountains found ? 

Tis the deep voice within our human breast 

Which bids us seek a refuge and a rest, 

4bove, beyond what meets us here around. 

Ever to men of God the hills were dear, 
Since on the sides of Ararat the dove 
Plucked the wet olive-pledge of hope and cheer, — 
Or Israel stood entranced in silent fear, 
While God on Sinai thundered from above. 



And once on Tabor was a vision given, 

Sublime as that which Israel feared to view; 



[ 28 Mountains. 



When the transfigured Lord of earth and heaven, 
Mortality's dim curtain lifted, riven, 
Revealed his glory to his chosen few. 

On mountain-heights of Galilee He prayed 

While others slept, and all beneath was still ; 
From Olivet's recess of awful shade 
Thrice was that agonized petition made — 

" Oh that this cup might pass, if such thy will !" 

* :]: # * 

And on Mount Zion, in the better land, 
Past every danger of the pilgrim way, 
At our Redeemer's feet we hope to stand, 
And learn the meanings of his guiding hand 
Through all the changes of our earthly day. 

Then hail, calm sentinels of heaven, again ! 

Repeat your message, as in ages past ! 
Tell us that pilgrims shall not toil in vain, 
That Zion's mount we surely shall attain, 

Where all home longings find a home at last: 



The Flight Homeward. 



129 



THE FLIGHT HOMEWARD. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF LP:ONHARD MEISSER. 



HAT can they be meaning, mother 1 
Will our swallows go away] 
See how swiftly they are flying, 
Do they then not wish to stay ? 



" Here — where their own homes were chosen, 
Every nest built close and warm, 
All their young ones fed and cherished, 
Safely sheltered free from harm, 

" When so long and bright a summer 
They have spent in songs and joy — 
Will they really leave us, mother? 
Can you tell the reason why?" 



The Flight Homeward. 



" Ah, it must be good, my children, 
God has kindly taught them so, 
From our winter cold and tempests 
To a brighter land to go. 

" Good for these, our pretty swallows, — 
Good for us, to learn aright 
All the lessons God would teach us 

From their strange and wondrous flight. 

" As you watch them disappearing 
On their bright mysterious way, 
Think then of a longer journey 
We must take, some future day. 

" Autumn last, how Emma left us, 
Would not stay for all our love ! 
She, our summer bird, was flying 
To the better home above !" 



"Repos A ilk urs." 



131 




" REPOS AILLEURS." 

' Repos ailleurs." The motto adopted and acted upon throughout life by 
the Dutch patriot, Sainte Aldegonde. See Motley's History 0/ the 
Netherlands. 



fOBLE resolve of a right noble spirit ! 

The echo reaches us, so calm and clear; 
'Tis the same portion we too would in- 
herit — 
Rest — but not here. 




Rest — with all visions of the future blended 

Comes that bright hope, so soothing and so dear; 
All the long journey past, the conflict ended, 
Rest — but not here ! 



Not here ! — while war's alarm is ever sounding, 
While half the promised land is unpossest, 



— 1 

j-2 "Repps Ailkurs." 



On the red battle-plain, with foes surrounding, 
Who dares to rest 1 ? 

Not h e r e '.-when autumn's sun is brightly shining, 
" Yet storm-clouds gather in the darkening west, 
On the ripe corn-fields, till that sun's declining, 
Who thinks of rest 1 

We ask it not— on thine own strength relying, 
Gladly, O Father, shall thy work be done ; 
Too swift the busy hours of light are flying, 
The night draws on ! 

Not here, but yonder- where in peace for ever 

The faithful servants with their Lord are blest ; 
Where friends depart, and foes shall enter never, 
There we shall rest. 

Yes ; and that prospect now the heart sustaincth, 

Lightly each burden and each toil to ben: 
Tor us the promise holds, the rest "remaineth" 

Not here -but there! 



On a Dark Winter Day. 



*33 




ON A DARK WINTER DAY. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF META HAUSSER. 



S fair Nature dying ] 
This funereal pall, 
Must it hang for ever 
Darkly over all ] 



Stormy clouds are hiding 
All the morning light ; 

Has the sun forgotten 
How to conquer night ? 



Must the frozen streamlet 
Silent still remain ? 

Shall the summer blossoms 
Never smile again ! 



134 On a Dark Winter Day. 



Hush, desponding spirit, 
Hush the dark surmise ; 

Light shall spring from darkness, 
Life from death shall rise. 

Still the sun is shining 
Bright behind the cloud, 

Only thy dim vision 

Cannot pierce its shroud. 

Nature, bound and buried 

Under winter's reign, 
Soon shall burst her fetters, 

Start to life again. 

Silent streams, awaking 

From their icy sleep, 
Through the vale shall murmur, 

Down the mountain leaf). 

Thousand buds already, 
Far beneath the snow. 



On a Dark Winter Day. 135 

Dream of spring's soft breezes, 
Dream of summer's glow. 

" Learn, sad heart, our lesson," 

Now they seem to say, 
" Dream of spring and sunshine 

Through thy wintry day." 

Yes, amid thy darkness, 

Through the gloom and fear, 

Love Divine is watching, 
Christ Himself is near. 

Since in dying anguish 

Once He bowed ,his head, 
Then arose as Victor 

From amidst the dead — 

Now his tempted people 

Need despond no more ; 
All our foes He conquered, 

All our sins He bore. 



i3 6 



On a Dark Winter Day. 



Love and Power unfailing, 
Life from death shall bring, 

From the grave's dark winter 
Everlasting spring ! 



January 1865. 




' 



Rachel's Well. 



137 




RACHEL'S WELL. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF KARL GEROK. 

5^8|N Haran's flowery pastures long purple 
P§E|*| shadows fell, 

*=^i As Jacob, sad and weary, sat by the way- 
side well. 
All joys of home and kindred now far behind him 

lay, 
Esau's curse and Isaac's blessing had sped him on 
his way. 

Fond memories recalling, and scenes of other days, 
Across the land of exile he cast a pensive gaze; 
Then asked the dark-eyed shepherds, " Friends, who 

is master here 1 
Know ye the son of Nahor? is Laban's dwelling near]" 



13S Rachels Well 



Now came the lovely Rachel, as summer morning 
fair, 

In graceful beauty ruling amid her fleecy care. 

Her flocks the stranger watered, then with soft emo- 
tion cried, — 

11 In God's name I salute thee, fairest sister, dearest 
bride !" 

And her eyes, like stars of evening, beamed on him 

radiance mild, — 
All exile sorrows vanished in the home where Rachel 

smiled ; 
Swift as bright days of summer flew years of service 

past, 
While dearer grew the blessing that should crown his 

toil at last. 



Through all the vault of heaven, one sun is giving 

light ; 
Through every clime and country, one stream is 

flowing bright j — 



Rachel's Well. 139 



The band of Christian brotherhood in every land is 

found, 
Lwe casts a golden circle the whole of earth around. 

Go, pilgrim, on thy journey, with angels at thy side, 
Thy God will keep his promise to guard thee and to 

guide. 
Trust to the gracious leadings of his Almighty hand, 
And thou shalt come in safety home to thy fatherland. 

By Jordan's peaceful waters shall rise thy joyful song, 
No more a lonely stranger, but loving bands among; 
With humble heart his faithfulness, his goodness to 

record,— 
11 I am not worthy of the least of all thy mercies, 

Lord!" 



-^^r- 



140 



A Pilgrim Song. 




A PILGRIM SONG. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF GARVE's " SONGS OF THE BRETHREN." 

ORD and Master! Thou whose reign of 
love 
Shall endure when earth and heavens 
remove ! 
Thou, in nature and in name 
Now and evermore the same, 
Glory be to Thee, below, above ! 




Peace and blessing follow day by day 
Where thou leadest in the heavenward way j 

And thy people, calmly blest, 

Safely toil, or sweetly rest, 
1 [appy subjects of thy gentle sway. 



A Pilgrim Seng. 141 



When they journey o'er the desert plain, 
Strength and guidance they from Thee obtain ; 
And if sudden storms arise — 
Tempests darken earth and skies — 
Thou commandest, — all is calm again. 

Thou commandest, — from the flinty stone 
Gushing waters thy dominion own \ 

From the opening clouds of heaven 
Bread is to thy people given ; — 
Still Jehovah by His deeds is known ! 

Satan's legions must thy power allow ; 

Death and Hades both are vanquished now ; 
Fear and sorrow's mournful cry 
Change to halleluiahs high ; — 

Blessed they, who to thy sceptre bow ! 

Lord, receive us, claim us as thine own ! 
We will follow, only lead Thou on. 



142 



A Pilgrim Song. 



Lead us in the path we love. 
To the better land above, 
Where the conflicts end, the crowns are won. 

From temptations guard or set us free, 
Whether bright or dark their form may be ; 
Let our love unchanging glow, 
And no rest our labours know 
Till for ever we may rest with Thee. 




An Evening Talk. 



M3 




AN EVENING TALK. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF META HAUSSER. 
{Free Translation.) 

RPJjjHY so late alone, my child, 
Wyl Lingering in the garden bower?" 
*SI " Mother, all the air is mild, 
Calm and sweet the evening hour. 



" See, the moon begins to rise, — 
One by one the stars appear ; 
Are they not like angels' eyes 
Looking down upon us here ? 



" Grandpapa, is he not there, 
With the angels- far away I 



144 d?i Evening Talk. 



Never with his silver hair 
Shall again his darling play ! 

' ; As I think of him on high, 

Wishes rise, so fond, so vain ! 
Oh that I had wings to fly, 
Grandpapa, to you again ! 

" To that holy, happy home, 

Where so many dear ones go, 

When the Saviour bids them come 

Where the living waters flow ! 

" I was praying, mother dear. 

When you called me, in the bower: 

Sometimes heaven seems so near ! 
'Twas a peaceful, holy hour. 

" 'Jesus, blessed Lord !' I prayed, 
1 Keep me from all evil free ; 
Through life's sunshine and death's shade, 
Bring me safely home to Thee !' " 



An Evening Talk. 145 



" Come to my embrace, my love ! 
Ever thus believe and pray ! 
Doubt not you are heard above \ 
Christ Himself ' Amen ' will say. 

" He, our blessed Lord in heaven, 
Bids us haste to meet Him there ; 
Wings to help us He has given, 

You have tried them — Love and Prayer. 

" Loving, praying, by His hand 
Safely guided, richly blest, 
We shall gain the happy land, 

Where with Him our dear ones rest!" 



10 



146 



Winter Sunshine. 




WINTER SUNSHINE. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF LEONHARD MEISSER. 
Free Translation.) 




SEE it fast approaching, with all its gloomy 
train, 
231 The dreary, stormy winter, — it hastens on 
again. 
Already I anticipate and shrink before the blast, 
And sigh with fond remembrance o'er the balmy 
summer past. 



How soon the flowers will vanish all, the leaves for- 
sake the trees ! 

Ah, must the chill extend itself to nobler things than 
these 1 



Winter Sunshine. 147 


Xo ! by the grace and help of God, it never need be 


told, 




That energies 


designed for heaven have sunk in 


winter's cold. 


The Christian's 


Sun declineth not, no winter dims 


His rays;— 




The Christian's 


heart may always glow with holy joy 


and praise 


; 


Ever the flowers of love and hope may in that garden 


bloom, 




In every season 


, every clime, exhale their sweet per- 


fume. 




Then come, thou gloomy conqueror ! I will not dread 


the hour 




When freezing 


earth and dark'ning skies own thy 


mysterious power; 


Come with the 


snows and tempests, thy followers of 


old — 




This heart and 


its affections shall never feel thy cold ! 



148 



Beacon Lights. 




BEACON LIGHTS. 

" So he bringeth them unto their desired haven." — Ps. cvii. 30. 

j*j|HEN all was drear and dark, 

From moon or stars no ray, 
Nobly our little bark 

Pursued her stormy way. 




Wildly the tempest sighed 
Around each straining mast ; 

Wildly the waves replied, 
In darkness hurrying past. 



And yet no sign of fear 

Our gray-haired pilot gave ; 

With look and words of cheer 
He met each crested wave. 



Beacon Lights. 149 



He caught one gleam afar, 

Seen through the drifting foam, 

He knew that guiding star, 
The beacon light of home ! 

And to the well-known strand, 
Where that faint radiance shone, 

With steadfast heart and hand 
He steered undaunted on ; 

And so, when morn arose 

O'er many a wreck-strewn bay, 

Our bark, in safe repose, 
Within the haven lay. 

Then, of a darker night, 

And a yet wilder main, 
We thought, — and the one Light 

Which none shall trust in vain ; 

That star of hope and faith, 
Brightest in midnight gloom, 



150 Beacon Lights. 



Undimmed by shades of death, 
Un quenched within the tomb ! 

What though like billows, loud 
And dark, life's storms combine, 

If only through each cloud 
That star of hope may shine? 

What though all others fade, 
Like flashing meteor's beam, 

If still through deepest shade 
That beacon light shall gleam ] 

O God of light and love ! 

We sink in life's rough sea ! 
Show us the star above 

Which guides us home to Thee ! 



"By the brook Cherith." 



i5* 




BY THE BROOK CHERITH." 

i Kings xvii. 2-6. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF KARL GEROK. 

(Frse Translation.) 




Y the brook Cherith, in the evil hour 
Of Ahab's power, 
The great Elijah finds a safe retreat, 
A refuge sweet ; 
Where at the tyrant's fury he can smile, 
And from his toil and dangers rest awhile. 



The noontide sun flames like a burning brand 

O'er the parched land ; 
All nature faints, — the flowers forget to blow, 

The streams to flow ; — 



iS2 "My the brook Cherith." 



But here the prophet views another scene — 
By the brook Cherith all is cool and green. 

Through all the land resounds a cry for bread, — 

He is well fed ; 
Each morn and eve the ravens as they fly, 

Bring full supply; 
All creatures are God's messengers. His will 
Ravens, or angels, can alike fulfil. 

By the brook Cherith all is still and lone — 

A dove's soft moan, 
The raven's call, the distant lions roar — 

These, and no more, 
Save summer breezes sighing through the wood, 
Disturb the calm and holy solitude. 

But to the man of God how sweet the rest, 

The calm how blest ! 
To hear, remote from strife and folly's noise, 

Jehovah's voice; 



"By the brook Cherith? 1 5 3 

Deep, full communion with Himself to hold, 
In the great temple He had built of old. 

Like sacred anthems sounds among the trees 

The morning breeze ; 
The western skies glow as the sun retires, 

Like altar fires ; 
The stars look down through the long silent night, 
Like holy watchers with their torches bright. 



Oh, happy still the prophet's lot to share, 

And place of prayer ! 
By a vain world forgot, alone with thee, 

Our God, to be ! 
Beside the fountains of all truth to go, 
And bathe the soul where living waters flow ! 

Then, in the wilderness, when called from toil 

To rest awhile — 
When the world turns away with closing door, 

And smiles no more — 



iS4 "By the brook Cherith? 

Then, brother, hear the Master's kind command, 
By the brook Cherith meekly take thy stand. 

In nature's solitudes — the forest glade, 

The mountain's shade, — 
In the lone chamber, by the lamp's pale light, 

Or moonbeams bright, — 
Wherever God is sought in lowly prayer, 
By the brook Cherith He can meet thee there. 

And when the ravens fail to bring supply, 

The stream is dry, 
And to the battle-field, or harvest plain, 

Christ calls again, — 
Then the new summons with new strength obey, 
And to Zarephath gladly take thy way. 



Not Forsaken. 



155 





NOT FORSAKEN. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF META HAUSSER. 

EARY and sad I stray 

While the last lights of day 
Fade in the western sky. 

Dear ones are distant far — 
Yonder bright evening star 

Hears not my lonely sigh. 

Music and smiles all round, 
Love and delights I found, 

Making my heart more lone. 

Solitude suits with grief — 
None can bring mine relief, 

Who has not sorrow known. 



156 Not Forsaken. 


Does not a Form appear 


Known to my soul, and dear, 


Loving, and calm, and sad / 


Couldst thou forget Him so, 


Long since acquainted with woe, 


Making the mourners glad ( 


Lowly to earth He came, 


Bearing our sin and shame, 


Learning our grief and pain ; 


Gently His love imparts 


Comfort to broken hearts, 


Bidding them hope again. 


Now I despond no more, 


Darkness and doubt are o'er, 


Love everlasting mine ! 


Yonder bright evening star 


Joins me from heaven afar, 


Praising this Friend divine! 



Father Forschegrund. 



157 



FATHER FORSCHEGRUND. 



FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHUBERT. 




" But may not even the blessedness of the noblest spiritual enjoyment 
become weariness at last? So some have questioned ; but he who can 
ask this has yet to learn how even on earth the soul by faith can behold 

God and rest in Him Have you never heard the story of Peter 

Forschegrund, the cloister brother?" — Tholuck. 

OOD Father Forschegrund one day 
Went forth to meditate and pray; 
The cloister walls he left behind, 
And onward roved, with pensive mind. 
Spring with her beauties filled the land, 
Sunshine and song on either hand : — 
" How wondrous, Lord, thy gifts appear, 
Still changing with the circling year ! 
Hardly has Spring her jewels spread, 
When Summer in her steps will tread : 



158 Father Forschcgrund. 

Then all her gold rich Autumn pours, 
Winter his silver, crystal stores; — 
If glories such as these we share, 
In this poor world of sin and care, 
What shall it be upon Thy face 
Throughout eternity to gaze? 
But yet — for ever — always so — 
May not the bliss oppressive grow ] 
Eternity! that awful word — 
Will it not seem too long, O Lord ? 
Come, Holy Spirit, to mine aid!" 
Thus the good Father mused and prayed. 

Lost in such thoughts, he onward strayed 
Through the dark firs and forest shade; 
Then looked, and lo! a wondrous scene 
Of palms, with myrtle bowers between, 
And from a tree of beauty rare 
Celestial music filled the air : 
A bird had come from Paradise, 
Who sang a tale of heavenly bliss, 



Father ForschegrwnL 1 5 9 

So sweet, that when it caught his ear, 

The Father could not choose but hear; 

And listening, his very heart 

Seemed stolen away by magic art, — 

Hearing that soft, enchanting lay, 

Of Nature's resurrection day, 

From Heaven a golden, healing dew 

Falling, and making all things new, 

Then every bond and fetter breaking,_ 

All to new life and light awaking, 

All the old clouds and shadows vanished, 

All the old sins and sorrows banished, 

All earth to heaven such praises bringing, 

That angels paused to hear the singing: — 

Thus sweetly told the heavenly bird, 

Transported, Father Peter heard. — 

At length perceived the sun was low, 

And, sighing, roused himself to go: 

" Thanks, minstrel, for thy soothing strain; 

Meet me to-morrow here again*" 



160 Father Forschegrund. 

He crossed the palm and myrtle glade, 

Then through the oaks' and fir-trees' shade, 

And quickly found himself again 

Within the convent's old domain. 

Still flowed the stream and smiled each flower 

As when he passed that morning hour, 

But as the cloister rose to view, 

Something there seemed of strange and 

new; — 
He crossed the threshold, gained the stair, — ■ 
A youthful Brother met him there : 
" Friend, who are you, and whither come] 
A stranger, yet so much at home'?" 
" Why, Peter Forschegrund should here, 
If anywhere, at home appear." 
" Forschegrund !" cries the other: "well, 
Thatis a likely tale to tell! 
More than a thousand years ago 
He was a Brother here, I know; 
And still around our fire is told 
That legend of the times of old, — 



Father Forschegrund. 1 6 1 

How the good monk, one summer day, 
Went forth to meditate and pray; 
But long the Brothers watched in vain, 
And prayed, for his return again, 
For never more on earthly ground 
Was the lamented Father found. 
Some angel, doubtless, from on high 
Caught him. like Enoch, to the sky." 

Awhile the Father stood amazed,— 
Then eyes and hands to heaven he raised : 
" O God! how plain is now revealed, 
The folly in this heart concealed ! 
Thy sinful servant dared to deem 
Eternity too long might seem, 
Spent in the sunshine of thy face, 
In showing forth thine endless praise; 
And yet, when Thou didst condescend 
One heavenly messenger to send, 
Only a bird from Paradise, 
Singing of resurrection bliss, 



ii 



1 6 2 Father ForschcgrumL 

While hearing that enchanting lay, 
As if but half a summer day, 
A thousand years have passed away ! 
What shall it be, what shall it be, 
To know the blest reality % 
When my own eyes my Lord behold, 
My faithless heart no longer cold ! 
Who questions how the hours fly past, 
When each seems brighter than the last? 
Unheeded by the saints above, 
In the full beams of light and love, 
Before thine everlasting throne, 
Time and Eternity roll on ! " 






«^i 



w 



Conflict and Victory. 



163 




CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 

ON A STORMY DAY IN SPRING. 
FROM THE GERMAN OF LEONHARD MEISSER. 



HOU art not yet the conqueror, O Spring ! 
Still Winter seeks to re-assert his reign; 
Strives his old forces on the field to bring, 
And sends his stormy blasts around again. 

But well we know, the strife will not be long, 
Thy baffled enemy must yield the day; 

Soon shall the breath of flowers, the voice of song, 
Sunshine and calm, proclaim thy gentle sway. 

Yes, ever has the victory been thine, 

In the old conflict year by year renewed, 



164 Conflict and Victory. 



And still in future must the foe resign 
His icy sceptre, by thy power subdued. 

And from the type we take the comfort given — 
Life's wintry storms shall not for ever last : 

How welcome the repose, the joy of heaven, 
When all the toil and tears of earth are past ! 




Arise! Depart ! 



165 




^>W 



ARISE ! DEPART ! 

(SUGGESTED BY A SERMON OF JOHN FOSTER.) 
'Arise ye, and depart ; for this is not your rest." — Micah ii. 10. 

ijADLY we hear it now, 




That summons, to the thoughtful soul 
addressed ; 

The voice of blighted hope and broken vow, — 
" Arise ye, and depart \ for this is not your rest !" 

The voice of passing bell, 
Of many a last embrace and parting tear, 
And fond, vain memories, — we know it well, — 
"Arise ye, and depart; your rest ye find not here." 

In lonely, pensive hours, 
The echo comes again, with plaintive sigh, — 



1 66 Arise! Depart/ 



The voice of setting suns and fading flowers, 
And all things bright and fair, which have but bloomed 
to die. 

Yes; ?ww the call is sad, — 
But yet far otherwise these notes have rung, 
When faith has heard the chorus, soft and glad, 
Around a dying saint by guardian angels sung. 

!' Exile, depart ! no more 
In the cold land of strangers thou shalt roam. 
Arise ! thy time of banishment is o'er; 
Come to the Father's house, the love and rest of home. 

" Prisoner, arise ! away 
Cast thy loose fetters and thy broken chain ! 
Come from the dungeon shade to heaven's own day, 
For ever there in bliss and freedom to remain. 

"Sufferer, arise! depart! 
The days of pain and weariness are past ; — 



Arise! Depart ! 167 



Long hast thou borne, with brave and patient heart, 
Now for the full release, the endless rest at last. 

" Brother, depart ! 'tis He, 
Thine own Redeemer, calls thee from above; 
Fear not to follow, where thou still canst see 
The path Himself hath trod, in days of earthly love. 

" Now in the peaceful tomb 
Leave for a while the weary frame of clay, 
And far above the vale of tears and gloom 
Let the freed spirit soar, on angel wings, away !" 

March 1864. 




i68 



God keep my Child! 




GOD KEEP MY CHILD ! 

FROM THE GERMAN OF KARL GEROK. 

flOD keep my child ! the hour has come, 
Thou goest forth from friends and home, 
While life, and love, and hope are new, 
And all seems bright that meets thy view, — 
God keep my child ! 



God keep my child ! the world is wide, 
I may not hold thee at my side, 
But strong as angel-guards shall be 
The earnest prayers that follow thee, — 
God keep my child ! 

A father's eye, a mother s hand, 
They cannot reach the stranger land ; 



God keep my Child! 169 

But One is ever present there, 
I give my treasure to his care, — 
God keep my child ! 

From all the tempter's varied wiles, 
Temptations veiled in frowns or smiles, — 
From evil men and evil ways, 
Perils of dark or joyous days, — 
God keep my child ! 

Thy heart is weak, thy strength is small, — 
Ready .to stumble or to fall ; 
Oh, seek the Lord's upholding power, 
His Spirit's help in danger's hour ! 
God keep my child ! 

His sceptre all creation sways, 
His will the universe obeys ; 
Within his arm, before his sight, 
We stand, in darkness or in light, — 
God keep my child ! 



170 God keep my Child 'J 



Yet the Good Shepherd's tender care 
The feeblest of his flock shall share; 
He who led Jacob in the way 
Still guides and guards, by night or day, — 
God keep my child ! 

The signal waves, — the hour has come, 
Thou must go forth from friends and home. 
Now let the last fond kiss be given, 
And " au revoir," in earth or heaven ! 
God keep my child ! 




Mori ah. 



17* 




MORIAH. 



FROM THE GERMAN OF KARL GEROK. 




WO pilgrims journey along the way, 
Far in the East, by the twilight gray. 



Faintly above shines the morning star ; 
Earth is in silence, near and far. 



Silent the voices of breeze or bird ; 
Silent the pilgrims — they speak no word. 

One is a youth, like the morning fair, 
With rosy cheeks and with golden hair ; 

The other of aspect calm and high, 
A snow-white beard, and an eagle eye. 



172 



Moriah. 



Lightly the boy gazes all around, 
Sadly the man's eyes seek the ground. 

On the lad's shoulder wood is laid 
(Of such is the fire on the altar made) ; 

The father carries a dagger bright ; 
It glimmers red in the morning light. 

Now to his father speaks the boy, 
Lifting his face of light and joy, 

" Father, we carry the wood and knife ; 
Where is the lamb that must yield its life V 

Then to the son does the father say, 
Turning his sorrowful face away, — 

" God will provide Him a lamb, my son ;" 
So in the silence they journey on. 

This is Abraham, the saint of old : 
That is his Isaac, long foretold — 



Moriah. 173 

Isaac, the joy of his heart and eyes, 
Claimed by his God for a sacrifice ! 

Abraham knows many a weary way, 
But none like this which he takes to-day, 

Yet will he tread it, faltering not, 
On to the heaven-appointed spot. 

See in the distance Moriah rise ! 
There is the mount of sacrifice ! 

Up its steep places the pair ascend ; 
There shall Faith's journey find an end. 



Still the procession moveth on — 
Many in Abraham's steps have gone ; 

Golden ringlets and locks of snow, 
Still together we see them go, 



174 Moriah. 

With weary footsteps and weeping eyes, 
Up to the mount of sacrifice. 

Yonder a father, with silver hair, 
Leading his Isaac, young and fair ; 

Yonder a mother, sad and pale, 
Hushing her infant's feeble wail ; 

Silent and slow their treasures they bear, 
To lay them bound on the altar there, 

And if one questions, how or why \ 
Heaven nor earth will make reply. 

What thou demandest, Father, see ! 
We bring it — and leave the rest to Thee. 

Onward, sad pilgrims ! surrender all ; 
Question not at the Master's call, 

See in the distance Moriah rise ! 
There is the mount of sacrifice ! 



Moriah. 175 



Up its steep places by faith ascend ; 
There shall the journey find an end. 



Who are descending the mountain way % 
A smiling youth and a patriarch gray. 

This is Abraham, the saint of old ; 
That is his Isaac, long foretold — 

Isaac, the joy of his heart and eyes, 
Claimed by his God for a sacrifice. 

The father holds by the hand his boy, 
And looks up to heaven in speechless joy. 

Sad was their upward path at morn, 
Light are their steps as they now return ; 

Darkly and sadly the morning rose, 
Joyful and bright will the evening close. 



176 Moriah. 

Still and for ever the Lord is good ; — 
He asks for faith, and not for blood. 

God for himself does the Lamb supply — 
One mighty Victim shall bleed and die, 

And he who his dearest gave to the Lord, 
An hundred-fold shall receive reward : 

Countless the stars that in heaven we see, 
So shall the children of Abraham be ! 



Tremble not — doubt not — venture all ; 
Question not at the Master's call. 

Still and for ever the Lord is good — 
He asks our heart, and not our blood, 

One mighty Victim by faith we see, 
So may the children of men go free. 



Moria/i. 177 

With breaking hearts to the mount we come ; 
With strange, deep joy He can send us home, — 

Yes, and an hundred-fold repay 

All He has asked for and called away. 

Countless the stars in the heaven above ; 
Countless the comforts of Jesus' love ! 




178 "S/ie7c> me a Token for Good" 




"SHEW ME A TOKEN FOR GOOD."' 

Psalm lxxxvi. 17. 
" Peace I leave with yon; my peace I give unto you." — John xiv. 27. 



HOW me a token, Lord, a gracious sign, 
To cheer and animate my drooping heart ; 
Make me to feel anew that I am thine, 
In bonds of union life nor death shall part. 



Here, at thy call, to this thy feast of love, 
Among thy people I have come again ; 

Look down with grace and blessing from above- 
Let not thy servant seek thy face in vain ! 



My old companions from my side are gone : 
Fond memory dwells on many an altered scene, 



"Shew 7ii e a Token for Good" 



179 



And tells a tale, with sad, reproachful tone, 
Of all that is not — and that might have been! 

The morning lights of life have died away, 
Silent and slow the evening shadows fall; — 

Oh for a sunset gleam, ere close of day, 
To pierce the clouds, illuminating all ! 

Thou changest not, — the same thy fulness now 
Of love and mercy's unexhausted store, 

As when, long since, I paid my youthful vow, 
And sought the grace I still to-day implore. 

What shall I now desire 1 — not raptures high, 
Unearthly visions of the heavenly land ; 

Give, if thou wilt, that dazzling cup of joy — 
I do not, dare not, ask it from thy hand. 

But this I ask — deny me not, O Lord! 

A fuller share than I have ever known 
Of the rich blessing promised in thy word — 

Thy last, best gift when parting from thine own. 



i8o "Shew 7?ie a Token for Good." 

Peace, which earth never gave — a soothing balm 
To heal the wounds and griefs of former years, 

To raise my heart, in high and holy calm, 
Above all vain regrets, all anxious fears ; — 

Peace, with its blessed sense of sin forgiven, 
Of love unchanging, mercy full and free ; — 

Peace, thine own peace — the harbinger of heaven, 
Of all thy people there enjoy with thee ! 

Grant me this token, Lord ! and so again 
I shall pursue my journey, calmly blest, 

O'er the rough hill, or through the lonely plain, 
On to the land of everlasting rest ! 

Communion Sabbath, July 1863. 



Autumn. 



1ST 





AUTUMN. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF SPITTA (NACHGELASSENE LIEDER). 

AUTUMN ! fair, pensive evening, 

Of the long year-day, in thee 
A natural, gentle emblem 
Of life in its evening I see. 

The faded forests are silent — 

The birds with their songs have flown, 

As the confident proud aspirings, 
And visions of youth are gone. 

No longer the gay flower-mantle 
O'er meadow and hill is spread ; 

So youth's gay charms and beauty 
With its fleeting steps have fled. 



1 82 Autumn. 



Not for shade or fragrant blossoms 

The traveller looks to-day, 
But ripe fruits and bracing breezes, 

To cheer on his toilsome way. 

While over his head seems smiling 
The deep bright azure above, 

Like eyes that have done with weeping, 
Reflecting heaven's peace and love. 

And the sunbeams which shine so brightly 
Oppress and consume no more; 

Like love in its bliss remaining 

When passion's fond dream is o'er. 

O Autumn ! the years calm evening, 

Let me ever behold in thee 
A beautiful, soothing emblem 

Of all my own life should be ! 

September 1 






The last Snow on Ben More. 



183 




THE LAST SNOW ON BEN MORE. 




TILL it lingers, lingers yonder — in that long 
ravine's dark shade. 
With its depths by ancient earthquake and 
rent precipices made. 
Which no eye of living creature, save the eagle's, has 
surveyed. 



Still the snow-wreath lingers yonder, — while we 

breathe this summer air, 
Seeking shelter in the birch-wood from the noontide's 

burning glare, 
All around us life and sunshine, singing birds and 

blossoms fair. 



184 The last Snow on Ben More. 

All is sunshine in the valley, summer reigns in earth 

and sky, — 
Yet a strange attraction draws me to those mountain 

cliffs on high, 
Looking up at their memento of the winter storms 

gone by. 



And I think of midnight tempests, blinding drift and 

sullen roar, 
Leaving wrecks of desolation far and wide by sea 

and shore ; 
Leaving yonder icy footprint on the forehead of Ben 

More! 



And I think of storms yet wilder, which through 

human hearts have passed, — 
With their wrecks of early promise, broken vows and 

hopes o'ercast, 
Leaving desolated traces, in all future life to 

last. 



The last Snow on Ben More. 185 

Who knows not some secret sorrow, some long silent 

fount of tears, 
Hid in Memory's desert places, and when all else 

calm appears, 
Springing up with sudden freshness, through the 

mists of parted years 1 



And the higher, nobler natures, longest, deepest, will 

retain 
Traces left by early conflict, by youth's bitter grief 

and pain. 
Gone the snows from lesser mountains — on Ben 

More they still remain % 



But I feel that all around me in the valley seems 

more fair, 
All the brighter is the sunshine, and more soft the 

summer air, 
When I look up to the mountain, and the storm 

memento there. 



1 86 The last Snow on Ben More. 

And the peace must be the sweetest given by Jesus 
to his own, 

When it reigns within a bosom which has weary con- 
flicts known, 

Looking back to days of darkness, and to idols 
overthrown ! 

Shall it be so still hereafter, in His presence when 

we stand, 
Fear and sorrow far behind us, one united, ransomed 

band, 
Yet recalling each the journey through the stormy 

pilgrim land 1 

Leave the past — and trust the future to our Father's 
heart of love ; — 

Forward, onward, more his mercy and his faithful- 
ness to prove ! 

Ebenezer ! Ebenezer ! labour here and rest above ! 

May 1865. 



Taboi\ 



187 




TABOR. 



FROM THE GERMAN OF KARL GEROK. 




N Tabors summit, what resplendent gleams 
Are shining from on high ! 
The dark rocks glow with purple, ruby 
beams, 
Against the golden sky. 
Is it but rosy tints of sunset light, 
Or rays from Paradise, which bring the radiance 
bright % 



And Thou, my Lord ! Thy glory, such as now, 

I never saw before ! 
That more than snow-white robe, that dazzling brow — 

Low prostrate I adore \ 



1 88 Tabor. 

Soft yet majestic thunders roll around, 
"Hear my beloved Son!" the rocks and caves re- 
sound, 

And to the right and left an angel pair, 

The sons of heaven, descend ! 
I see Elijah stand with Moses there — 

They talk as friend with friend. 
Immortal brothers, with what glad amaze 
Your heavenly speech I hear, and on your glories 
gaze ! 

And thou, my heart, so late oppressed and worn 

By weights of sin and woe, 
Now strong, as if on eagle wings upborne 

Above all cares below, 
Where are thy burdens now % can death be past, 
Mortality behind, and heaven attained at last % 

How deep, how dark, the vale below appears, 
Scarce in the distance seen : 



Tabor. 189 

How vain the objects there, the hopes, the fears, 

Viewed from this height serene ! 
Away, poor vanities ! your reign is o'er ; 
Here with my God I heed your claims and calls no 
more. 

Here it is good to stay, here let us dwell, 

Nor turn to earth again. 
Now raise our tents, and bid the world farewell, 

And here in bliss remain. 
What need I more of heaven, than thus to be 
For ever on the mount, Lord, with thy saints and 
Thee] 

Alas, the vision fades before mine eyes ! 

I wake from the bright dream ; 
Through the dark cedar grove the night -wind 
sighs 

Beneath the moon's cold beam : 
The splendour and the loveliness are gone, 
The angel forms have fled, Jesus remains alone. 



1 90 Tabor. 

And dost Thou yet remain, my Lord, my God ? 

Thy servant asks no more. 
Gladly with Thee I take the downward road, 

Returning, as before, 
To toil and care ; but from my inmost heart 
One memory of bliss shall never more depart. 

And that remembrance, light and hope shall yield 

Through many a darksome day ; — 
Now with fresh vigour to the harvest-field, 

Where Thou hast led the way ; 
The task appointed to fulfil, — and then, 
u For ever with the Lord," upon the mount again ! 

March 1866. 







Sabbath Evening Musings. 



191 




SABBATH EVENING MUSINGS. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF KARL GEROK. 

(Free Translation. ) 

1 Blessed are they who feel the home-sickness — they are on the way to 
home." — Heinrich Stilling. 

jc*^L*}J|HAT means this strange emotion, 
Ry^yiy This longing, pensive sigh, 
pift<m As here I sit in silence, 
And gaze on earth and sky ? 



The evening bells are chiming 
Sweet on the summer air, 

The evening lights are gleaming 
Soft on the landscape fair ; 



1 9 2 Sabbath Evening Musings. 

Hardly an insect murmurs, 
Or dove with gentle moan ; 

I sit within my chamber, 
All quiet and alone, 

The holy page before me \ 
But eyes and fancies stray, — 

What means the dreamlike feeling 
Which bears my heart away ] 

Is it a thought of sadness 
That Sabbath rest is o'er, 

And week-day cares and labour 
Returning as before 1 

Or can it be that, weary 
Of holy rest and prayer, 

I long again the burden 
Of common life to bear ? 

Are memory's spells around me I 
Fair visions of the past — 



Sabbath Evening Musings. 193 

Of childhood's Sabbath sunshine, 
Long dimmed and overcast ] 

Or can the dear departed 
Steal from their home on high ? 

With silent, tender greetings, 
Are spirits passing by % 

Or is my spirit striving 

To break the mortal chain, 
And soar, in fond aspirings, 

Her Fatherland to gain ] 

Ah, yes ! 'tis here the secret, 

The hidden meaning lies, 
Of this mysterious sadness 

Which fills my heart and eyes. 

When falls the Sabbath silence 

O'er week-day cares and toil, 
Then sound the spirit-voices 

Lost in life's vain turmoil. 



13 



194 Sabbath Evening Musings. 

Then wakes the earnest longing, 
The call within my breast, 

For a repose yet deeper 

Than sweetest Sabbath rest ; 

A love more pure, more tender, 
A joy more full and true, 

Than mortal heart has cherished, 
Or mortal breast e'er knew, — 

A Sabbath morn, whose sunshine 
Fades not with eve away ; — 

My God ! when wilt Thou bring me 
To that eternal day ? 







Strength and Peace. 



i95 




STRENGTH AND PEACE. 



" The Lord will give strength unto his people ; the Lord will bless his 
people with peace." — Ps. xxix. 11. 




E will give strength and peace ; — what 
woulcTst thou more, 
Oh, faithless heart % Though dark the 
scene around, 
Though steep and thorny lies the path before, 
And in the distance corning tempests sound, 
Let vexing cares and anxious questions cease — 
He will give strength and peace ! 

He will give strength; — when thine is failing 
fast, 
His shall sustain thee on the toilsome way ; 



196 Strength and Peace. 



Till the long wilderness be overpast, 

Thou shalt " go forward " ever, day by day. 

His hand shall hold thee up, shall lead thee on, 

Till the good fight be won ! 

He will give peace ; — in sorrow's darkest hour, 

When nameless woes distract the weary breast, 
Then shall that Voice be heard, which yet hath 
power, 
As when of old it spoke the waves to rest. 
To every storm of the rebellious will, 

He can say, " Peace, be still !" 

Look not behind ; — seek to recall no more 

The long dark shadows of past grief and fear ; 
Look not beyond — thou canst not see the shore 
Now, through the gloom, yet may the port be 
near. 
Let vain regrets and sad forebodings cease, 
He will give strength and peace. 



Strength and Peace. 197 



Strength, for the days of conflict or of toil, 
Peace, in the dreary hours of woe and pain ; 

Through all the changes of life's " little while," 
This word of promise shall unchanged remain. 

His covenant stands, though mountains may depart; 
What would'st thou more, sad heart % 

September 1866. 




198 



The last Sunset. 




THE LAST SUNSET. 



1 Let me look once more on what my Divine Father has diffused even here, 
as a faint intimation of what he has somewhere else. I am pleased 
with this, as a distant outskirt, as it were, of the Paradise towards 
which I am going." — John Foster. 



BgagfLOSE not the casement, love 5 

Nay, raise the curtain, — I would look 
once more 
On the bright stream and autumn-tinted 
grove, 
Our own blue lake and its dark mountain shore; 



All we so long have known, — 
And loved with that deep passion of the heart, 

Which cannot be a thing of earth alone, 
Which must of our immortal life be part. 



The last Sunset. 199 



Yes, I would gaze again, 
At the old sunset hour, on earth and sky, 

Though doubting not its image will remain, 
One of the memories which can never die. 



How brightly lingers still 
That golden glory in the radiant west ! 

How its reflection glows, on wood and hill, 
The rushing river, and the lake's calm breast ! 



I go to scenes more fair, 
More glorious — yet to these affection clings; 
First tokens here of what awaits us there, 
Time's passing types of everlasting things. 



I thank thee, O my God, 
My Father ! for the goodness which has given 

So much to beautify our brief abode, 
Our pilgrim path as thy redeemed to heaven. 



2oo TJie last Sunset. 



And now thy voice I hear ; — 
Thou callest, I obey, — well pleased I come, 
Leaving the outer courts, so fair, so dear, 
For higher joys within my Father's home ! 

October 1865. 




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